Head in the Clouds
by Phx
Summary: They say bad things happen in three's... If you don't believe me, just ask the Tracys as an unfortunate mishap on the way home from New York City tests the bonds of trust. Third story in the 'Virgin Trilogy'.
1. Down

Thank you to every one who has given me advice and support with this story :) You ladies are absolutely awesome. This story is going to be a multi-chapter and is definitely more serious than the previous ones. I hope you enjoy it.

A/N - I double checked but still don't own them.

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 1**

Pain.

That was the first thing that registered when sixteen-year-old Virgil Tracy regained consciousness; pain and an oppressive heat. It was almost hard to breath.

What happened?

Forcing his eyes open a crack, he groaned softly and let them slide shut again. Too bright. Everything was too bright, too hot. Too – he frowned – too quiet? No, not quiet. There was a small noise coming from somewhere behind him and he furrowed his brow, bothered by both the sound and his own confusion as the pungent smell of jet-fuel mixed with the stale odor of vomit was making him nauseas.

What happened?

Keeping his eyes closed, Virgil tried to remember. They were on their way home, his father flying Tracy Two, the second of the Tracy family's large private jets. After a rather eventful couple of days in the Big Apple, they had dropped Scott off in Colorado Springs at the Air Force Academy, leaving John in upstate New York. The soon-to-be-nineteen year old had an extra couple of days off from M.I.T and stayed behind to hook up with a couple of his friends. Gordon was convinced the 'couple of friends' was actually a girl, and once he and Alan had recovered enough from their memorable trip to the aquarium to tease him, the blond haired young man received no mercy. And then –

Virgil's eyes opened. _Holy shit!_ They'd crashed; Tracy Two had actually crashed.

The teen remembered bright blue skies as they flew over the hot New Mexican desert. His father, piloting the jet and sitting next to him, had been smiling and laughing quietly at something Virgil said. Behind them further back in the plane, Gordon played his hand held video game while Alan slept. Both boys were doing much better since their release from the hospital although they still tired easily. Virgil had glanced back to check on them when his father had suddenly cursed, and then everything went to hell.

Birds. A flock of birds, everywhere!

They hit the windows –

The sides of the plane –

The engines.

"_Mayday. Mayday! Tracy Two to tower! Tracy Two to tower!"_

The plane was going down.

His brothers screamed.

His father yelled –

"_Brace for impact! Brace for impact!"_

They hit hard.

Oh God, Oh God, they were going to die!

That was the last thing Virgil knew.

Until now…

Gasping loudly, the teen forced his eyes back open. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision and got his first good look of the damage. The cockpit seemed mostly intact, undoubtedly a testament to his father's skill, although the windows were shattered and little sharp shards of glass stung his skin. Outside the window, the sun burned a hazy mirage across the rose colored desert sand. The jet had hit the sand hard shoving the nose backwards in a macabre parody of crumpling up a tin can. It was both amazing and terrifying when Virgil realized that he was pinned tightly against the instrument panel still in his seat and couldn't move. Another inch or two and he would have been crushed to death.

Intense claustrophobia made the teen wriggle and then groan as pain flared across his left arm, his chest and down through his legs. Nothing screamed _'I've been cut off' _or '_you're bleeding to death'_ so he took that as a good sign; a good sign or shock? It was a bit too early to tell. He just hoped the rest of the plane was in as good shape.

_Oh God. Dad. Gordie. Alan…_

He needed to check his family.

"D-Dad?" he rasped carefully turning his head to the left where his father was sitting. His father was slumped forward against the restraints; his head hanging limp, a thin line of blood marring the side of his face. Luckier than his son, Jeff wasn't pinned by the panel. He was breathing but very obviously unconscious. "Oh God," Virgil hissed and then bit back a cry when he tried to reach across to his father and searing pain laced up his forearm. Panting through the pain, he didn't need to look to know his arm was broken. Shit, that was going to complicate things. He really wished Scott were here, or even John. But they weren't, and with his father out cold, that put Virgil in charge.

Okay, he could do this. His family was counting on him.

Closing his eyes briefly to try to steady his breath as a trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face, Virgil heard the sound again. He frowned. What was it?

Sniffling? Crying, maybe?

"Gordon?" he called out hopefully. "Gordo?" Maybe one of his brothers was in better shape than him. As he waited for a response, he cursed the increasing heat in the plane knowing that if they weren't found soon, they'd be in even more trouble. Crashing in the desert had probably saved their lives, but being injured and without air conditioning, things were only going to get worse. Did anyone even hear his father's Mayday call?

When his fourteen-year-old brother didn't answer, Virgil bit his lip. He'd really hoped it was Gordon because if it wasn't then that left Alan, and as much as he loved his littlest brother, a nine-year-old wouldn't be nearly as useful. Hearing another soft sniffle, Virgil called out again, "Alan? Al? Is that you?"

A heartbeat than a very young and scared sounding, "Virgil?" made him smile in relief. Thank God, someone else was conscious.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me. Are you okay?"

"I dunno," Alan sobbed, "I-I think so."

The shakiness in his little brother's voice twisted at something inside Virgil. He hated being stuck like this and not being able to see how bad things were or make them better. A tendril of fear snaked down his spine and made him even more nauseous but he swallowed it back. His family needed him focused. With only him and Alan conscious there was no time to fall apart. Falling apart would have to wait until later, preferably with older brothers around to fuss over him.

Right now, he had to hope Alan wasn't stuck or seriously hurt because if not, well, if not then Virgil really had no idea what they'd do. First things first though, scared little brother triage. Sure Alan had said he was okay, but given how badly shaken the kid sounded, Virgil wasn't exactly taking that at face value. He needed to be a bit more specific.

"Alan," he tried to keep his voice steady, "what hurts?" There was no way in hell they'd just crashed and the nine-year-old wasn't hurting somewhere. Virgil himself was almost putting his teeth through his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

"Everything!" came a moaned little cry. Virgil waited and his patience was rewarded a few moments later, "But not too bad… Gordie's worse."

And didn't that make everything that much better, the teen thought sarcastically.

"I'm scared, Virgil," Alan admitted, his voice wavering again before the older Tracy could ask him what he meant about Gordon. "I-I kept calling for you and Daddy! But no one answered and I thought you were dead and then Gordie got sick and now he won't wake up and – and what if we blow up? Planes blow up, Virgil, that's-"

"Whoa, easy, kiddo," Virgil rushed to reassure the increasingly upset nine-year-old. It was easy to imagine how scary this must be for Alan. Hell it was scary for him and he was a lot older. "It's okay… Do you hear me, Al? It's going to be okay… and we're not going to blow up. Dad dumped the fuel before we hit."

"But we crashed!" the child wailed. "Where's Daddy, Virgil? I want Daddy."

Virgil glanced over at his father again. He swallowed hard and tried to calm his brother down. Alan panicking wasn't going to help. "He's here, Sprout. But he's hurt. Just like me and Gordon… We need your help, Al. We need you to be brave for us, can you do that? Can you be brave, Alan?"

More loud sniffling made Virgil's eyes burn as he closed them and let his head rest back against the seat, his injured arm jarred each time he spoke but he didn't have enough room to try to stabilize it. Compassionate by nature, Virgil never could stand hearing one of his brothers cry and it was always worse when it was Alan, probably because he was the youngest and it just seemed unnatural that with four older brothers watching out for him that he should be upset about anything.

"I-I think so," Alan stammered. Virgil managed a small smile as he heard the younger boy take in a huge gulping breath, obviously trying to calm himself down. After another moment he sounded much more sure of himself. "I can, Virgil. I can be brave."

"Good. Wanna tell me what's going on back there?" He really wished he could see behind him, having no idea how badly damaged the passenger compartment was.

"Gordie's hurt," Alan immediately started to report. "I think he hurt his head. He was talking real funny and then he got sick and threw up everywhere. I tried to help but he wouldn't listen to me and now he won't wake up."

That explained the vomit smell. _Concussion, probably_, Virgil surmised before he asked. "Alan, can you move?"

The sound of soft grunting and then things shifting behind him had the sixteen-year-old holding his breath, half afraid of what any slight movements might do. He was pretty sure they were securely resting on the desert floor but with their recent run of luck, he just didn't know. He let out a relieved sigh when his brother finally called out, breathless but pleased sounding. "I _was_ a little stuck but I'm out now. Virgil? Is Scott on his way yet?"

Virgil winced wondering if Alan's hero worship of their oldest brother was going to come out of this intact as he highly doubted the twenty-one-year old was going to be riding in on a white horse any time soon. In fact, they probably wouldn't see either him or John until the hospital, providing they were found at all.

_No_, he mentally scolded himself, _don't even think that_! Even if no one had heard his father's emergency call, the teen knew there were trackers on each of the Tracys planes and that it was only a matter of time before help came. The problem was keeping everyone stable under a hot blazing sun until then. Already he was thirsty.

"Virgil?"

"Sorry, Sprout," he swallowed back the dryness in his throat. He decided not to answer Alan yet. "Can you see Gordon?"

Thankfully Alan was easy to distract. There was the sound of something else being moved – what kind of mess was back there? – and then the boy answered him. "Yeah – I can now. He looks funny."

"Funny?" Virgil sat forward as much as he could and then bit back a groan as his hurt body protested the movement. "In what way?"

"I dunno," Alan admitted frustrating his older brother. "In a Gordon way… And he smells real bad-"

"Alan, how does he look funny?! Answer me!" he barked, his worry making him sharper than he intended.

"Don't yell at me!"

_Was Alan crying again?_

"I'm sorry, okay? Alan, I'm sorry, I just need to know why Gordon looks funny. Please, kiddo, I need you to tell me. I can't – I can't come back there right now." And didn't it kill him to admit that. His every instinct screamed at him to get back there and fix things; his family was hurting and he couldn't do anything for them.

"I dunno!" Alan repeated, "but his face looks funny, like his nose is wrong or something!"

"Okay, okay," Virgil let out the breath he was holding, "It's probably broken, that's okay but he's breathing right, Gordon is breathing?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Alan?" Something in the kid's voice sent another jolt of adrenaline through Virgil's body. Where were their rescuers? "What's wrong?"

"Blood!" the child gasped out, "He's got blood, all over his face."

_Shit_.

"Blood? Alan, can you see where it's coming from?"

"Well," the boy hedged, "he does have some scratches… but I don't know."

"Damn," Virgil whispered. Alan was the only one of them not trained in basic first aid but once they were back home, the teen was determined to talk to his father about that. "Okay. He's breathing though, right?" he needed to reconfirm. His own head was starting to really throb as the front of the plane began to shift in and out of focus; he swallowed and tried to breathe through the dizziness. _No!_ He struggled hard to remain conscious. Alan's words buzzed around him and he tried to answer, he tried to stay awake. He had to, he couldn't leave his brother alone –

And then soft hands patted at his face and the darkness pulled him under.

------

Nine-year-old Alan Tracy had never been so scared in his life. As he stood between his unconscious father and older brother and stared out the shattered cockpit window, he started to shiver. The afternoon sun might have burned bright and hot but he didn't feel its warmth.

Behind him, the passenger compartment was a mess. Some of the seats had jarred loose on impact and slammed into the wall at the back end of the plane. Alan's seat had been one of them, but he'd been incredibly lucky and had only been pinned under the mess, his smaller size actually protected him when another seat boxed him in, leaving him bruised and hurting, but caged instead of crushed. It _had_ taken some wiggling but the kid had been finally able to get out when Virgil asked. And that was when he'd finally seen Gordon. His red haired brother's seat hadn't come loose but he'd obviously been hit by something, Alan remembered hearing him cry out but he had no idea what he'd been hit by.

The blood on his unresponsive brother scared him, more than the insensible babbling Gordon had done before puking and passing out again earlier had, and it sent him scrambling through the rest of the mess to get to Virgil. He ignored the large gaping hole where one of the wings should have been.

The child was terrified that when his older brother stopped talking to him, he was going to be left alone again. Unlike the rest of his family, Alan hadn't lost consciousness when they'd crashed, and his young mind was too fractured by the fear of being alone to even consider leaving the jet.

Wrapping thin arms tightly around his hurting body, the pale child waited.

_Scott will come,_ he tried to reassure himself, blocking everything else out, focusing on that one thought, _I know it, he will come_.

TBC


	2. But not out

_Thank you for all your wonderful comments and interst in this story. I hope you will continue to enjoy it as we continue on. A special thank you to Alaina, Sheila, and Emily :) You guys keep it fun._

_And of course, this is all your fault, Liz, I should be writing Supernatural :P Oh and if you haven't, you should check out her very first Thunderbird story. Kryriebess's "Pranks and Priorities" is awesome and it was her who made me intersted in Jeff and the boys._

_This chapter has a 'not for sqeamish people' warning on it. Blame it on Sheila. She reminded me of something and poor Gordon has to suffer because of it._

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 2**

It was the sound that got Alan's attention. It was buzzing and insistent; although he ignored it for a while, it kept getting louder and louder.

"V-Virgil?" his voice quivered as he looked at his dark haired sibling and reached out with a trembling hand to pat gently at his brother's bloodied face. "Wake up, p-please." His heart pounded hard against his thin chest as fresh tears baptized new fear. Virgil _had_ been awake earlier, he'd told Alan to be brave and the little boy promised he would, so he hoped that maybe Virgil was just sleeping or something, unlike his father and Gordon. It was his father's lack of response that scared him the most of all.

Jeff Tracy was larger than life, even bigger than Scott, so he couldn't just lay there slumped over, silent and bleeding in his pilot seat when his sons were hurting and scared. He _couldn't._ That had to be someone else –

Alan knew it wasn't, that _was_ his father, but still turned to Virgil instead. His brown haired brother was the absolute best 'fixer upper'. When Alan was younger he used to call the young artist the best booboo kisser of all. But being a big kid of nine now, he just called him Dr. Virgil. And right now he needed Dr. Virgil to make this all better. At least until Scott came.

But Virgil didn't move. He didn't flinch even when Alan's patting jiggled his cheek. "WAKE UP!" A sudden burst of anger at being left all alone flared and then burned out instantly.

"I'm sorry, V-Virgil! I'm sorry!" Alan stammered, feeling horrible for the outburst. He gently stroked the sweaty hair off his brother's forehead knowing how it always made_ him_ feel better when he was sick, even if the youngest Tracy doubted _he_ had the same magic in his touch. Virgil's face was pale and clammy and the child frowned at the feeling of slickness under his fingers. Actually the whole plane was stifling; Alan's own favorite t-shirt was sticking to his skin and his normally baby soft hair hung hot and heavy against his face.

Returning his attention to the unmoving teenager beside him, Alan smiled shakily, although he knew his brother could not see it."Don't worry," he soothed, sucking in a breath andtrying to sound brave. "Scott'll be here soon, I-I know he will. And then he'll fix everything, okay?"

He startled, his heart pounding hard and painful, as a large black fly lazily buzzed by his ear.

_Bugs?_

Alan heard humming and with a quick glance at his brother, and even a quicker eye dart at his dad, carefully picked his way back towards the passenger compartment, stumbling over debris and knocking his knee painfully against an overturned table. Biting back a cry and rubbing at this newest sore spot, he limped anxiously towards the red-haired teen and called out, "Gordie?"

More humming and the little boy's hope soared as he shoved passed a piece of metal paneling that had ripped off sometime during the impact: his t-shirt briefly snagged and then tore as the nine year old wrenched himself loose. Even Gordon talking silly was better than Gordon not talking at all. "That you?"

Finally he saw his red haired brother and the grin froze on his face –

Gordon wasn't humming.

It wasn't _humming_ at all.

It was bugs.

Fat, flying, buzzing, crawling, biting insects…

All over Gordon.

The youngest Tracy just stood there and stared, too horrified to move.

_No,_ his mind shrieked, his eyes wide, his face milk white_. No!_

And then he was scrambling towards his brother, stumbling and crawling to get to him. "You can't have him!" he screeched, "Get away! Get away!"

The insects drawn to the smell of vomit and unexpected food source, continued to come…

------

Twenty-one-year-old Scott Tracy hummed quietly to himself as he finally finished unpacking. His family had dropped him off hours ago on their flight back to the island but every time he started to open the small overnight bag he'd taken with him to put something away, he got interrupted. Not that he minded one certain interruption but she'd gone now and as he put away the last of his undershirts he couldn't help but grin. And it was _John_who'd gotten teased about getting a little bit of action on the side? Oooh, if only Gordon knew –

Scott chuckled and shook his head as he put the now empty bag away in the back of a small closet. Gordon was _never_ finding out.

Marissa was pretty with long legs and a body that lesser men would kill for but the young pilot knew it wasn't a forever kind of relationship. He knew that underneath all the right words and moves – and oh God, what she could do with that mouth, _he flushed at the thought_– she was only in love with his name. And honestly he was fine with that. With _International Rescue_, his father's dream of an ultimate global rescue team, about a year from 'going live', he wasn't ready to get serious with anyone.

Still Marissa certainly knew how to make him feel missed and when she did that little twirl thing with her –

The sound of an incoming call jerked his mind out of his pants with a sudden, and embarrassing, jolt. Turning around swiftly, he hurried over to the small desk on the other side of the room. It was probably his father letting him know they'd gotten home. Flipping the vid-phone on, the young man sat down facing the monitor. "Hey, Brains." He grinned at one of the most brilliant minds on the face of the planet,chief engineer for Tracy Enterprises and, most importantly, close family friend and confident, as the bespectacled genius filled the screen. "Dad and the boys home yet?" He was so glad it wasn't Gordon, feeling pretty sure his little brother would have picked up on Scott's less than pure thoughts of only moments ago.

"_S-Scott,"_ the man looked flustered. Brains never looked flustered. The grin slid from Scott's face as the scientist continued, "_Tracy T-T – your father's jet –"_

Dread washed him cold.

"_- it's cr-cr-cr-gone down in the desert..."_

Scott shook his head. That wasn't right. It couldn't be right. His family had only dropped him off a few hours ago –

"Are you sure?" he barked. They lived on an island for Pete's sake, they flew all the time, everywhere, hell even fourteen-year-old Gordon knew how to fly and Alan practically had wings, forever pestering for his turn with the 'stick'. That's what they did. They flew. Tracys did _not_ crash.

"_S-S-Scott…"_ Brains scrubbed his fingers across his forehead, a sure sign he was stressed. _"I've n-n-n-called the authorities… they'll find them."_

_Oh God, Dad, Virgil, Gordo, Sprout –_

Scott needed to be there. _Right now._

"Where?" he shouted at the vid screen as his emotions ping-ponged between fear and anger; fear for his family and anger that he wasn't with them. Rationale told him his being there might not have changed anything, but emotion screamed otherwise. _Were they scared? Were they hurt? Were they even alive?_ "Where are they? Brains! Where's my family?" He forced himself to calm down, to focus, his mind already prioritizing what he needed to do, starting with contacting John.

There'd be time for freaking out, later.

Brains swallowed, his features tight with worry and fear, before glancing down briefly. Taking a deep breath, he read out the coordinates.

The young pilot didn't need to write them down, they were numbers he would never forget…

Everything after that became a blur as Scott Tracy mobilized.

------

Alan looked around, desperate for some way to get the bugs off Gordon, even as his stomach twisted and he dry heaved. _Water_, his mind frantically pushed out, _water!_ But where? Tracy Two did have a small fridge that Jeff always kept stocked with bottles of water and juice for the boysbut it wasn't where it was supposed to be. The impact had knocked it loose but instead of piling towards the back of the plane like the seats had, it had gone out the gaping hole left in Two's side the wing had been ripped off.

"No," the little boy whispered. He needed that water! _Gordon_ needed it! And then he saw a single bottle of water that someone, most likely Gordon since his older brother was part fish, had taken out of the fridge to drink. It had obviously rolled around during the crash and was now firmly wedged between another piece of paneling – _where did all this stuff come from?_ – and the floor. Alan yanked it out, knocking his sore knee again, unscrewed the top and began to pour it over his unconscious brother. It wasn't enough but it did make most of the insects move and washed away some of the blood and puke.

Tipping his head to the side, Alan wasn't really sure what else he could do for his brother. "Gordie?" he tried to rouse his brother again. He sniffed. "I don't know what to do… I p-promised Virgil I'd be brave… and I'm really trying but- but I don't wanna be here any more! _Please_," the nine-year-old cried, "I just want to go home."

------

"_John-"_

Soon-to-be-nineteen-year-old John Tracy knew something was wrong even before Scott could get the words out. He didn't have to see his older brother to know the pilot's jaw was clenched so tight each word he spoke, hurt.

"_-Dad and the boys… the plane went down-"_

John, who'd been walking back to his hotel felt as if the ground had been pulled out from underneath him and he sat down heavily on the edge of the curbunmindful of traffic or anyone else.

"_They crashed, Johnnie… oh God…they're down-"_

And like that, John was back on his feet and running for the hotel.

-----

Jeff hurt.

Everything hurt.

Unconsciousness plucked and promised many things. He seriously considered most of them –

…_I don't wanna be here any more…_

Alan?

Gordon, Virgil!

- then threw the darkness away.

Careful not the move, Jeff slowly opened his eyes; he was slumped over, still strapped in the pilot seat of Tracy Two. _What happened?_ He tried lifting his head but a searing, stabbing pain through his chest stole his breath, and for one horrifying moment Jeff thought he was going to suffocate. His head dropped back down as he panted shallowly, moaning softly, desperate to find a way to breathe through the pain. The heat inside the cockpit was stifling and sweat trickled down his face and dropped off the tip of his nose and onto his lap. It was tinged pink.

…_I just want to go home…_

Alan.

He focused on Alan's voice – he needed to make sure they were okay. He needed them to be okay because, as he stuttered in one painful breath after the other, Jeff knew he was going to need their help. Already the former astronaut could taste blood in the back of his throat and knew he was seriously messed up. If they didn't get help soon, Jeff was certain he wouldn't be walking away from this one.

"Al-an?" he rasped out, the word a labor of determination as talking and breathing at the same time were almost impossible but he had to. Where were Gordon and Virgil? He tried to see to his right, where his middle son had been sitting but with every movementthreatening his tenuous grasp on consciousness, he couldn't see much. The front of the plane seemed pushed in at an odd angle and he just prayed Virgil wasn't pinned.

Jeff couldn't help but groan at the horrid irony of the situation. If International Rescue was up and running –

"_Daddy_?" The sound of soft scrabbling preceded the frantic face of his youngest son as Alan was suddenly kneeling beside him peering up into his face, wide eyed and terrified looking. Jeff wanted to reach out so badly and touch the little boy, to take that look of his child's face. "You're awake!" The sheer delight and relief in Alan's voice broke Jeff's heart. _For how long?_ he wondered as darkness tugged at the edges of his vision again.

"H-hey," Jeff managed a smile although he didn't try to lift his head again. Alan didn't seem to mind though as he just bent down a bit further so he could look his father in the face.

"I don't know what to do, Daddy," Alan confided, his blue eyes searching his father's face. Jeff tried to get enough strength to ask Alan about Gordon and Virgil but the little boy continued on, "Virgil won't wake up any more and the bugs won't leave Gordie alone. I threw some water on them but they're already starting to come back."

Jeff blinked in horror. "W-what?"

"The bugs." The nine-year-old tried to explain, getting more worked up with each word, "Gordie got sick and he won't wake up and Virgil said I had to be brave 'cause you guys are all hurt and Gordie's nose looks funny and I was supposed to help but Virgil didn't tell me what to do and you wouldn't wake up and – and-" a large fat tear slowly bathed its way down the pale face as the little boy suddenly dropped his head and sniffed loudly, "and I don't want to be brave anymore, Daddy." He sniffed again and then looked back up at Jeff. "Scott is coming for us, isn't he?"

Jeff's heart hurt.

"I mean, he's got to, right?" Alan looked down at his favorite t-shirt, now grimy and torn and fingered a particularly nasty looking tear, _'Property of Scott'_ yet another victim in the crash. There were also dark smudges of blood but Jeff couldn't really tell where it was coming from or even if it was Alan's.

"Al-an," he breathed out, needing to try to console the child. There was nothing he could do for Virgil or Gordon right now but Alan was right here, so he had to try, but the little boy didn't give him a chance.

Alan took in a deep breath, then looked up at his father again, a new determined look fixed on his young face. "Of course, he's coming," he assured his father, "he's just gone to get John first. And that's a good idea -" something caught Alan's attention. "Daddy? Do you hear that?"

Jeff listened. At first he didn't hear anything –

But then…

There was something –

Far away…

Getting closer –

A sound…

Whirling, thumping.

Jeff knew that sound and he managed a very small grin just before the encroaching darkness sucked his vision away.

_That was the sound of a large search and rescue helicopter._

Tracy Two had been found.

But the last thing that the man heard before he completely lost consciousness was his youngest son's gleeful voice yelling, "He's found us! Scott's found us! And the Tracy father only hoped with all his heart that Alan was right because somebody needed to be there for his baby…

TBC


	3. Saved?

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 3**

Eagerly Alan watched through the shattered cockpit windows as a large helicopter slowly settled down a safe distance from Tracy Two. Hot dust was kicked up by the rotors and the kid coughed but refused to turn away. _Scott was coming_. He just knew it. And then everything would be okay. His oldest brother would know what to do. Scott always knew.

But as he watched four people in jumpsuits hop out of the open side of the chopper, two of whom were carrying large bags, he frowned. None of them looked big enough to be his brother. At just over 6'1, the muscular Air Force pilot was hard to miss.

"Daddy?" Alan's lower lip started to tremble as he continued to watch. "I d-don't _see_ Scott…" Alan sniffled, his cerulean blue eyes wet and wide. "Where is he?" He glanced back at his father and panicked – the man's eyes were closed again. "No!" He started to shake his father's shoulder, "don't go back to sleep, Daddy! Wake up!"

And then someone was grabbing him and gently pulling him away from the man, away from Virgil.

"_Easy kid,"_ a man's voice rumbled. _"We're here to help."_

"No!" The child fought as the strong arms easily manhandled him out of the cockpit and towards the gaping hole in the side of the wing. If these people were supposed to be helping them, why were they taking him away? His mind scrambled; maybe they weren't the real rescuers after all – his family's years of warning him about the danger of strangers skimmed his reasoning – that's why Scott wasn't with them! "Let me go!" He thrashed frantically. "Let. Me. Go!!!" He saw another man crouching next to Gordon and he struggled harder. "Don't hurt him! He's sick! _Gordie!!"_

"_Get that kid out of here_," another man ordered. "_Now!"_

The arms holding him suddenly swung him out through the hole where another set of arms grabbed him and set him back down on his feet. Hot sand crunched under his sneakers as new voices started firing questions at him.

"_What's your name?"_

"_Are you hurt?"_

"_Is this your blood?"_

Alan tried to pull away, overwhelmed and trembling, the scene a confusing whirl of strangers and noise,_ he needed to get back to his family,_ but he was held too tightly, too many other bodies pressed around him. His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately sought out his brothers in the swarming sea of faces. _"Scott?"_ he whimpered_._ "_John?"_ He didn't even care who anymore, he just needed his family. But instead there was now a second helicopter on the ground and even more people. More jumpsuits. Chaos.

More questions.

"_How many fingers?"_

"_Does this hurt?"_

And nine-year-old Alan Tracy did what any beleaguered nine-year-old would do, he burst into tears.

-----

Scott Tracy pushed the envelope on the small jet and still cursed its slowness. Usually he loved flying and could lose himself in the sky for hours, in the blink of an eye, but not this time. This time it was taking too long and he'd never wished for anything as badly before, as for _this_ flight to be over.

Tracy Two had gone down in the New Mexico desert a few miles east of the Arizona border, and while he knew that a combined effort by the local authorities and the Search and Rescue had already been dispatched and would be there long before Scott could be, it didn't detract from his own burning need to get to his family. And he knew it was even worse for John. Having stayed behind in the Big Apple, the aspiring astronaut was at least two hours behind Scott.

"_T-Tracy Island to S-Scott,"_ Brains's voice burst through his earpiece. The engineer was breathless and sounded excited. _"T-Tracy Island to S-Scott!"_

"Scott here. Any news?" Scott dispatched with the pleasantries. Brains would understand.

"_Th-th-they've been f-f-found."_

Relief stuttered as the young pilot barked, "And?"

"_And th-th-they're alive!"_

For one long moment Scott couldn't say anything; his ability to comprehend, suspended. And then, "All of them?" he demanded knowing what the real chances were of anyone surviving a plane crash in the first place let alone _everyone_ making it out.

Brains laughed, actually laughed. _"Yes, S-Scott. All of th-th-them."_

Scott smiled, big and wide, "Oh, thank God." He took only a moment to relish in sheer relief, then quickly sobered. Alive only meant one thing, not dead. "Injuries?"

"_D-D-Don't know yet,"_ the other man admitted, his own tone respectfully subdued but it was easy to hear the thin thread of anxiety humming beneath his words. The Tracys were as much family to the genius as his own blood. _"Just confirmation th-th-that – of s-s-survival."_

"Okay…" he checked his frustration. The lack of information wasn't Brains's fault. _If only International Rescue was up and running, _he mused darkly, thinking of the state-of-the-art space station that was going to be the communication nerve center of the operation. According to his father, it would be fully functional in six months time with another six months of training and testing already scheduled for a very excited John. _Six months too late_, he couldn't help but scoff bitterly. "Where are they being taken?" he checked his heading, already preparing to make the course correction.

"_T-T-Tucson, University Medical Centre…. I've already n-n-n-called the tower and told th-th-them you'd be coming."_

Scott nodded although Brains couldn't see him. "ETA 45 minutes. I'll change my flight plan. Can you have a car waiting for me?"

"_D-D-Driver?"_

The twenty-one-year old smiled grimly, he preferred someone else driving when he was in town on business because it allowed him the commuting time to get extra things done, unlike John who was mortified at the idea of anyone else behind the wheel of a car – _control freak_, Scott thought absently, a fond smirk pulling at his lips – or if it was a strange city and he was in a hurry. "Driver? Definitely – oh, and Brains?"

"_Y-y-es?"_

"Thank you."

He signed off before the flustered scientist could respond. For one of the most brilliant minds, Brains just did not know how to respond to appreciation. Adjusting his heading, Scott coaxed just a bit more from the already taxed engines and prayed for a good tail wind.

'_Scott's praying to get some tail,'_ _Gordon's voice sing-songed in his mind as Alan's infectious laughter curled warmly around his ribs and the roll of Virgil's eyes at the teenager's indignation was easily imagined._

"Yeah, bro," he whispered. Blinking hard to keep his vision focused, he didn't have to turn around to feel his father's bolstering presence behind him. "Whatever it takes."

Please, hang on guys, I'm coming…

------

In Tuscan, Arizona, the trauma department of University Medical Centre was a flurry of activity as the first of two large Med-evac helicopters arrived. This one carried the famous Jeff Tracy, and the corridors were already a buzz with speculation over the crash and whether or not the legendary American would survive, before he was even unloaded and rushed inside.

_OR 4 – Stat! _

A small blond boy, dazed and subdued, was gently led in after the stretcher. The child had been sedated at the scene and whispers of '_shock and emotional trauma_' followed him through the halls.. A soft-spoken nurse nudged him towards a quiet examination room and onto the bed. Mutedly, the boy let her help him out of his ruined shirt but when she went to take it away, he reached out and snagged at the material.

"No," he whispered, his trembling fingers tightened on the shirt, "p-please…" The words were soft, slurred and took effort as a large, fat tear rolled down his pale face, dropped off his cheek and burned her skin. "S'mine…"

"Oh, baby," the nurse whispered, her heart breaking for the hurting child. She reached up to wipe at a second tear but the blond jerked slightly so she let her hand drop. "It's okay…" she tried to console. "It's just a shirt. We can get you another one."

Bright blue eyes stared up at her miserably and something akin to resignation passed over his young face. The child gave a soft sigh, then let go of the shirt. He didn't say anything else to her. Just carefully lay down on his side, his softly tanned skin marred by darkening bruises, blood and dirt, put his hands under his tear damp cheek and closed his eyes.

Letting the clothing drop to the floor for the time being, the nurse gently checked the child's pulse, his temperature and his blood pressure before she was satisfied that he wasn't in any immediate danger. Then the working mother of three covered him with a warm blanket and dimmed the lights to give him some quiet time until the doctor could come by to give him a more thorough check.

Picking up the discarded shirt to put it in a bio-hazard bag, she noticed lettering on it. Casting a curious look at the sleeping boy, she carefully pulled the material apart and read the words _Property of Scott_. She vaguely wondered who Scott was, knowing that the boy's father was supposed to be Jeff Tracy, although as the kid hadn't given anyone his name, it was possible he wasn't even one of the sons but maybe a family friend. Then she dismissed the curiosity, balled the shirt up and threw it away. There was another Med-evac on its way.

Leaving the room, she instructed an intern to stay with the unsupervised child and hurried back to help with the next victim.

------

John Tracy was normally a very patient man. In fact, out of a pack of Tracys he was the one least likely to attack when provoked. But right now, he was coming damn close to going nuclear on the stupid idiot flying this plane.

Like Scott and his father, John was a fully licensed pilot, however when he'd gone to the Tracy Enterprises hangar and found out that one of their jets was readying to go to Tucson, Arizona anyway, he decided he'd just hitch a ride on it to save the time of prepping another plane.

Tracy Two had gone down near the Arizona border so John figured Tuscan was where his family would be taken after they were found and opted to go straight there instead of trying to catch up with the rescue effort like Scott was doing. So, worried out of his mind and restless to just get this flight over, John was not in the mood to suffer the questions of idiots. And this one, in particular.

This one, made no bones about the fact that he hero worshiped the Great Jeff Tracy and was bubbling over at the idea of flying an actual Tracy anywhere, even '_if it was just John'_, as he'd been told three times now. And while on any other day, John would have humored the man's mindless prattle today was not one of them.

In truth, John just didn't want to talk. His mind was too wrapped up in fear over what had happened, what could still be happening, and what was going to happen to even entertain the possibility of following a conversation. So this guy was really just pushing it.

"So, tell me, did your dad ever make you cut his toenails?"

John stared at the guy, horrified. "What?"

"Toenails," the guy, ruddy faced and really not much older than John, explained as he cast the blond Tracy a sidelong look. "I'm assuming he has them. Did you ever have to cut them for him? Man, my old man was always wanting me or my brother to -"

"No!" the younger man shook his head in disgust.

"That's good." His pilot actually did sound relieved. ""Cause that would be a pretty disturbing visual. Unless of course, you're into that kinda stuff." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

_Oh, God, help me._

John reached up to try to rub away the beginnings of a headache, reminding himself that his father would frown on him killing employees. Maybe if the man knew the reason behind John's urgency he'd shut the hell up, but for now the crash was being kept quiet. The less people who knew the famous Tracy family was involved the better. The press was a pack of wolves they'd really prefer not to have to deal with right now. It would get out soon enough.

"Dude, five boys? Man, Tracy's got balls -"

John closed his eyes and started to count to ten.

_One… remember, John, someone out there loves this man…_

"Lots and lots of balls -"

_Two… this could be considered self-defense…_

"Must suck though… Four brothers to have to share the inheritance-"

The man never even realized that it was Scott Tracy who saved his life as John's cell went off at the same time the idiot was speaking –

Shooting the man a black look, John grabbed his cell phone then forced his eyes straight out the window and towards the spanning horizon, terrified of all the ways this conversation could go. But before he could even offer a breath, Scott's voice was rushing in his ear,

"John… They're alive. All of them -"

And the idiot flying the plane almost got a kiss.

------

The second Med-evac landed and two more Tracys were rushed inside; sixteen-year-old Virgil Tracy and his fourteen-year-old brother, Gordon. ID found in the wallets confirmed who the unconscious teenagers were.

CAT scans and portable x-ray machines were standing by as clothing was cut off and information barked between the flight crew and staff, terse and quick. No one took offence. There was no time.

Shit, his blood pressure's dropping –

_We got a bleeder!_

_Clear the halls! Clear the halls! _

And as the sun slid lower in the burnt Arizona sky, there were no doubts [in] that this was going to be a long night.

_TBC - next chapter: Scott and John arrive..._


	4. Saved

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. Your words of encouragement have been very heart-warming and I am glad you are 'enjoying' it so far. A special thank you to three ladies, Alaina, Emily and Sheila for their continued support in this story and for putting up with all my neurosis :P

Sorry for the delay in this chapter but as Alaina and Sheila know I have been on a road-trip with my family this week. We left Canada on Friday night and have been to Washington State, Oregon, Nevada (including Las Vegas, Reno and, my favorite place of all, Death Valley) and drove back today through California and back in to Oregon where we are spending the night on the coast. Tommorrow we continue to meander our way back to Canada :P So I have been writing this chapter in around driving and doing all the annoying toursit things that we just have to do because it drives the locals nuts. So I think I have an excuse. Anyways, without futher adieu, here is the next chapter...

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 4**

The emergency room of University Medical Center was awash with people. Some, patients to be seen or worried kin, filled seats, sat on the floors or just milled around, aimless and worried. Others, staff, out numbered and overwhelmed, triaged and treated in a flurry of soft soled shoes, efficiently offered sympathy and wearing clean, crisp scrubs.

Closer to the front door, an old woman wrapped in a brightly colored shawl sat on the edge of a chair and cooed to a fever-faced cherub cheeked baby, a long haired man in dirty clothes and grimy skin clutched his stomach as he rocked and groaned, too restless to stay sitting for very long, and two small girls played hide-n-seek behind the backs of their crying mother. They might not have known who the young man was who'd just strode in from the increasingly darkening evening, but one quick glance was enough to convince them he was someone…

_Someone_ not to be messed with.

And they were right.

------

Scott Tracy thundered in through the swishing doors of the ER, hard edged and dangerous as his eyes sought out, then fixed on a young blond haired nurse sitting behind the triage desk.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded; his voice loud and booming as he elbowed his way through the busy room towards her. Patience was not his strong suit on the best of days but when his family was involved, the young pilot had absolutely no time to suffer the ignorance of fools.

The nurse behind the desk startled, obviously taken aback by the aggressiveness of the stranger. Her hand edged towards the security button even as she managed, "Excuse me?"

"_Mr. Tracy?_" Another voice, nervous but loud called out from behind Scott. Immediately the pilot swung around, his hands reflexively balled into fists expecting trouble. "I'm Blair Wanking-" a plain faced older man with a wrinkled tie and a sheen of sweat on his forehead was extending a hand. Scott dwarfed him by a good six inches, although what the oldest Tracy son had on the man in height, the man more than made up in girth. "- the hospital administrator… We've been expecting you."

Scott gave a curt nod, figuring as much and only mildly placated by the fact. Hesitating for only a moment, Scott shook the man's hand, biting back a grimace at the clammy, weak handshake. _My Dad would tear you apart in the board room_, he thought grimly knowing how Jeff Tracy hated tentativeness in an administrator. The shrewd businessman said that a handshake told more about the person than anything that came out of the person's mouth would. And Scott, an astute business mind himself, agreed.

"First, let me assuage your concerns by assuring you that I've already arranged security for your father and brothers while they are here. No one will get in or out of their rooms without your expressed permission-"

Indignation fueled anger beyond urgency. Scott's jaw tightened, his eyes blackened. This man thought his immediate concern was _security_? Sure that was a consideration but not at the top of his list at this exact moment. Interrupting terselythe seething twenty-one-year-old grit out. "Do not dare to presume what my priorities are…" The man had the audacity to look stunned, Scott continued. "How is my family?"

Blair reached up and started to tug on his tie before he caught himself, let his hand drop and then flustered out. "Oh, your family? Of course. Of course… I'm so sorry- Louise?" turning to the blond nurse who'd been surreptitiously paying attention even as she'd started with her next patient, he asked, "Has there been any updates on the plane crash victims?" He tried to placate Scott, "I know your father was taken straight to the OR but let me assure you, Dr. Priestly is our top surgeon and your father is in the best hands. Only the best for the Tracy family."

Fear griped Scott's heart painfully. _Surgery? Dad? Oh, God._

"And your brothers were being examined. Louise?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the woman's face softened, "Your father is still in surgery and I don't have further information on him or the rest of your family yet. They're still being treated."

"Your father _was_ brought in with extensive internal injuries," Blair offered, "And as soon as Dr. Priestly can, I'll have him update you."

"And my brothers?" Scott demanded, desperate for information and unhappy with how little he was being given. "What's wrong with them?"

"I don't know the particulars beyond a concussion and some broken ribs," the administrator admitted sheepishly, "but I will find out. If you'll just follow me, Mr. Tracy-"

"Scott**."** the younger man cut in tiredly, "My father is Mr. Tracy."

"Of course," the round man patronized, "If you'll just follow me, _Scott_, I've arranged a private waiting area for you, this way. And I'll see what else I can find out about your family-"

Remembering what Blair had tried to tell him about security, the dark haired Tracy interrupted. "My brother, John, is on his way. He should be here in a bit."

"No problem," Blair assured him, "I'll have him met at the desk."

"Thanks," Scott sighed out as he followed the man away from the busy ER. He scrubbed a hand through his hair in agitation, uneasy about not knowing what exactly was going on. And he'd called _John_ the control freak? Scott snorted softly.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he followed the shorter man, Scott hoped John would hurry up and get here, he was paranoid and anxious to see the younger man. At least there was one member of his family the pilot could still take care of.

------

Alan slowly blinked a pale, white hospital room with muted lighting into focus. Disoriented and feeling sluggish, he wanted only one thing. His family.

"Daddy?" he whispered as he carefully sat up, hissing as his badly bruised body protested the movement but stubborn enough to keep moving anyway. "Scott?" Dilated blue eyes lethargically roved over the small sterile room looking for any signs of his loved ones. "John?" Fear overcame stupor as he realized he was alone. "_Virgil? Gordie?_" And then he remembered the crash and was off the bed, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, his bare feet freezing against the cold floor. They were hurt! His father, Virgil and Gordon, all three of them!

Overwhelming terror drove the little boy towards the door as searing pain threatened his soul –_ what if they went away like Mommy?_

"No!" he whispered, horrified. That wasn't allowed to happen. His body trembling, the blond child quietly opened the door, peered into the busy hallway and started to search frantically for a familiar face. He almost called out for Scott but then sucked in a breath, bit his lip and swallowed back the hurt. Scott wasn't here. He hadn't come, probably wasn't even coming at all –

A stranger's voice called out, "_Alan? Alan Tracy?"_

And Alan darted back inside his room.

------

"Good news!" Blair Wanking beamed grandly to a very agitated Scott as he strode into the private waiting room. The pilot had been pacing for almost twenty minutes now and was about ready to take the hospital apart if someone didn't tell him something soon. "I've got updates on your family."

Scott was in front of the man in two steps. "And?" he demanded impatiently, hating the other man's showmanship, "How are they?"

"Your father has been moved into recovery and his doctor will be out shortly to give you the particulars but he survived the surgery and is holding his own. One of your brothers, Virgil?" he looked at Scott for confirmation and the pilot nodded, "Virgil is also being taken to recovery-"

"Recovery?" Scott stared at the shorter man in shock, "He was in surgery?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry, one of his broken ribs shifted, nicked his liver and he was also rushed into emergency surgery shortly after his arrival."

It was absolutely surreal and Scott shook his head in an attempt to keep up. He had no doubts that the staff at the trauma center was more than competent, but this man – Blair – was seriously not of the same caliber. "Whoa, wait a second," he growled, his patience shredding. "Why wasn't I told this before? One of his broken ribs shifted?"

Blair squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly not so pleased with himself. "Uh, yeah. I'm sorry," Scott was seriously beginning to dislike this man. If he apologized one more time… "Look, perhaps it would be better if I waited until Dr. Priestly has had a chance to speak with you. I just thought you'd want to know as soon as possible…"

Scott took a steadying breath, the man was right of course. He'd rather hear what he could now instead of waiting for the surgeon, at least he knew that both his father and Virgil were still fighting but that didn't make the man's blundering delivery any easier to take. "What about Gordon? And Alan?"

The administrator gave him an odd look and Scott felt all the blood drain from his face. _Oh God, please no –_

"Well, uh," Blair hedged, "_Gordon _has been moved to the Intensive Care Unit. He has a severe concussion and we're worried about the increased intracranial pressure but…" he paused momentarily, then just blurted out, "but who's Alan?"

------

Garth Rawlings could not believe his good luck. He'd gotten a tip from an old contact of his that Jeff Tracy's private jet had gone down in the New Mexico desert and that the survivors, the eldest Tracy included, were being flown in to the Tucson hospital, ten minutes from where Garth was currently staying on holiday with his own family.

Preferring to call himself a 'people's reporter', instead of paparazzi, Rawlings specialized in getting the shots of three major families, the Tracys being one of them, and had salivated at the potential of this. Jeff and his three youngest sons were reported to be on that plane, and the mags he was affiliated with would pay handsomely for any pictures of the boys, particularly of a picture of the youngest, Alan.

The littlest Tracy was virtually impossible to get close to, his privacy guarded with a tenacity that bordered on fanatical by both his father and elder siblings, so the knowledge that the kid was here made this an opportunity that would be too good to pass up. Sure, if he had scruples, the man might feel bad for dumping his own family to try and profit from another's misfortune, but he didn't and was merely more determined to get the pictures that would pay.

So when a small boy with blond hair, a pale face and electric blue eyes poked his head out of a private room, Garth knew that this was meant to be. A lesser man would not have recognized the veritable Tracy phantom but Rawlings had seen the boy two years earlier at his grandmother's funeral and recognized the blond. Sure, the kid had gotten taller and thinned out, but he hadn't changed much at all.

"Alan? Alan Tracy?" he yelled out to get the boy's attention and it worked, but Alan took one look at him and ducked back inside before Garth could get a shot.

Cursing under his breath and casting a quick look around – nope, no older, growly Tracy brothers in sight – he hurried towards the room. _One picture_, his heart pounded with excitement, _one picture would more than pay this month's mortgage._

Not bothering to knock, Garth quietly pushed the door to Alan's room open and slipped inside.

------

Scott stared at Blair, stunned. "Excuse me?" he bit out. "What do you mean _'Who is Alan?_'"

"Uh," the administrator swallowed hard. "I know about your father and _two_ brothers… Are you saying there was a third? I don't have anything on a fourth Tracy. You're sure he was on the jet? Maybe something happened and he made his own way home or something…"

Brief disbelief was flooded by anger and Scott rounded on the smaller man backing him against the wall with just the heat of his words. "Alan is only nine years old! A kid. A little boy, so do _not_ tell me that you don't know anything about him or that you've somehow _lost_ my brother… My _baby_ brother."

"W-well," Blair stammered, nothing if not brave as he inadvertently poked at the incensed Tracy, "the _survivors_ were brought here-"

"If you even think about finishing that sentence…" Scott left the threat hanging, his mind still reeling at the idea that Alan had somehow been misplaced. Sucking in a deep breath and reining in his immediate need to hit something, the pilot yanked himself away from a very tempting target and stalked towards the farthest end of the room. He ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration and fear._ Oh, God, Alan…_ Then spun back on the anxious man, "Find him. I don't care what you have to do but you find my brother." Blair nodded tightly but didn't move right away, so Scott barked, "NOW!"

That got the man moving in a flustered flurry of squeaky shoes and gel-slicked hair.

_What if Brains was wrong?_ The traitorous thought wheedled in past Scott's defenses. _What if they didn't __all__make it? _

"Oh, Allie," he whispered, distress and terror pulling out a pet-name he hadn't used for his brother in years. "Where the hell are you?"

------

"Alan?" Rawlings used his snake-oil voice as he approached the child, shocked but pleasantly surprised to see that there was no one else in the room but him and the boy. For one brief moment the man considered that maybe he'd been wrong and that this wasn't Tracy's son. The idea that Alan was alone didn't fit, but one look at the handsome young face and daggered blue eyes, terrified but still holding a hint of defiance, made him snort at his own silliness. Yeah, this was one of Jeff's boys.

Alan had retreated to the furthest side of an unmade bed and the reporter let him keep that modicum of safety between them.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded, his young voice sounding surprisingly strong, given how pale the kid was and how badly his body was trembling. Garth realized he'd better make this short. If anyone found him here –

"I'm an old friend of your family's. My name is _Jack_," he lied smoothly. It was sort oftrue, although his previous run-ins with both Jeff and his oldest son, Scott, hadn't been friendly. But the man never said he was a 'good' friend, did he? "And I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Alan seemed to consider that for a moment, then scowled, "I don't know you."

"I'm sure you don't know everyone your father does… and I haven't seen you since your grandmother's funeral. You looked very smart in that little navy suit, Alan, she would have been proud," Garth commented with just the right inflection of sadness in his voice. His gaze lingered over the cuts and bruises on the child's face and he added, holding up a small, compact, but very powerful digital camera, "Anyway, _Scott_ asked me to do something for him." At the mention of his brother, and as Garth suspected based on what he'd seen of the child's hero worship of his oldest sibling, Alan's guard dropped.

"Scott?" Alan asked, his voice hopeful. "Is he here?"

_I hope the hell not_, Garth thought before saying aloud. "No, but he'll soon be. I promise. He did ask me to make sure you were okay and to do something for him…" The child watched him carefully and the man almost felt bad for manipulating the kid like this. Almost. Again he indicated the camera. "He asked me to get pictures of your injuries – for the insurance company of course," Garth lied smoothly. "It'll just make everything go much more smoothly and I'm sure that given everything that has happened, you want to do your best to help out, huh?"

Alan bit his lip and the man pressured harder.

"Oh c'mon, kiddo," he cajoled, "it'll only take a moment – I promise – and it will really do a lot to help out your family. Just a couple of quick pictures, then I can call Scott and let him know how good and helpful you are being. You know how much he loves it when you're doing what you're told, don't you? And he's counting on you, Alan. Big time."

He knew he had the boy a moment before the blond head slowly nodded.

"Okay," came a quiet reply although the nine-year-old was still clearly uneasy. "If Scott says so…"

_Jackpot!_

"Of course he did," Garth could not believe his luck. He'd be buying a lottery ticket tonight for sure. "Now, if you'd just lower your gown, so I can get a good look at your chest -"

------

"We found him," Blair's words were rushed. "He came in with your father and was put in a private room-"

Scott didn't let the administrator finish. He just grabbed the man's arm tightly and pushed him towards the corridor, "I want to see him. Now."

------

The extent of the bruising on Alan's chest and back momentarily shocked the reporter. The boy's softly tanned skin was mottled with black and blue and Garth whistled quietly in appreciation as he lifted the camera –

And never even knew what hit him at first.

One moment Garth was getting ready to snap a picture, the next he was on his back halfway across the room, his jaw throbbing fire as an enraged Scott Tracy stood over him, both fists clenched, chest heaving hard.

"_You sick sonnovabitch_," Scott yelled, grabbing the reporter by his shirt and yanking him back to his feet, the pilot's fist bringing back for another strike. "Get the hell away from my brother!"

Behind the furious Tracy, a short round man in a rumpled white shirt, yelled "_Security!_"

"Wait!" Garth tried feebly to defend himself. "There's been a misunderstanding-" he prayed Scott didn't remember him. "I was only just-"

The next punch was a knockout.

-----

Alan watched, wide-eyed and in shock as his oldest brother stood over the unconscious Jack, his back to the little boy.

"Scott?" he whispered, confused and in disbelief. _Was Scott really here?_

Scott turned, the rage melting from his face as soon as he saw Alan and then the pilot had crossed the room and was sweeping his distraught little brother into his arms mindful of the bruised body.

"Alan," he breathed out, as the child buried himself against Scott's strength, Alan's own body shuddering hard.

"You came for me," he sobbed into Scott's shirt as his fingers twisted against the material, gripping tightly, desperate for everything to be okay now, "You really, really came!"

If Alan had been looking at his brother right then, he would have been stunned by the look of pure heart-break that ridged Scott's face as the man briefly closed his eyes, then held on tighter. "Allie," his murmured words were hot against the side of Alan's cheek and meant only for him. "I will _always_ come for you. Do you understand me? Always…"

Alan didn't say anything, just pressed harder against Scott as if he was trying to bury himself inside his brother. Worried, the pilot just held on and then glancing over the distressed child's head, he watched as two burly security guys burst into the room and grabbed the still unconscious reporter. They hauled him outside. Then Scott mouthed quietly to Blair as he slowly started to rock his brother, "Get. Out."

The administrator looked like he was going to argue but then seemed to come to his senses and left, closing the door quietly behind him to give the two Tracys their privacy, and leaving one man, angry, and one little boy, broken.

------

In the hallway, Blair saw a young woman hurrying towards the room. He stopped her with a glare knowing exactly who she was. She was the intern who'd been asked to stay with Alan.

Seeing the hot cup of coffee she was holding in her hand told him the bitter story of why Alan had been in his room alone. And,Blair was almost one-hundred percent certain that this had kissed any chances they'd had of getting a donation - a very large donation - from Jeff Tracy 'goodbye'.

And then a blond haired, athletic young man showed up in the ER and asked to speak to 'whoever was in charge' and Blair knew he had one final chance to try to make a good impression on the family. He hurried forward, his smile once again firmly fixed on his face and extended his hand, "Ah," he said warmly, "You must be John Tracy. We've been expecting you."

TBC -


	5. Dethroned

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 5**

"Hey." Scott lowered his head to try to see his little brother's face but Alan just shook his head miserably and pressed his face in closer against the pilot's muscular chest. The kid's fingers, already entwined in the man's shirt, tightened as if he were afraid Scott was going to send him away. Something fierce twisted inside Scott. That was _never_ happening. Growing increasingly worried and needing to take a better look Alan, Scott tried again, "Al? Alan?' And again another headshake.

New anger coursed through Scott but he bridled it. The last thing his brother needed right now was his anger. There'd be time to roll heads later.

Resting his cheek on top of the silky blond hair, Scott sighed and just held on. He still had to check on the rest of his family but he could give a few minutes to Alan. And if he was being honest, Scott would admit he needed it too. This had been too close.

Inhaling deeply, the man closed his eyes and whispered, "It's okay, Sprout, everything's okay now."

Slowly he felt his brother relax, the trembling slowed, and he couldn't help the small smile that twisted his lips when he realized the kid was falling asleep. Shifting the little boy into a more comfortable position, Scott decided to wait until Alan was a bit more deeply asleep before getting his brother settled back in the bed and then seeing what else he could find out about Gordon, Virgil and their father.

A soft sound at the door had Scott's eyes flying open; his body tensed and hunched protectively over his younger brother but then he gave a relieved smile and relaxed when he saw who it was.

"John," he breathed out, drinking in the sight of the second oldest Tracy and then grumbled, "about time. What the hell did you do? Walk?" He noticed that his normally unflappable brother was looking a bit stressed, John's handsome young face pale and lined with worry even as something bright still twinkled at Scott from behind the sapphire blue eyes.

"Bite me," the blond man snorted as he quickly slipped into the room and crossed the distance between them, his gaze fixed intently on their youngest. "How is he?"

"Dunno," it pained Scott to admit, glad to have his brother here, "no one seems to know anything."

"Oh I don't know… that Blair guy was a wealth of information." John crouched down in front of his brothers. Scott was still perched on the edge of the bed, the smallest Tracy neatly tucked away at his side.

"You can't be serious?" Scott scoffed, not too worried about waking Alan now that the kid was asleep. The youngest of five boys had learned how to sleep through anything. It was a survival mechanism really. "_Blair?_ The guy's an asshole. When I got here he actually thought my first concern would be about security! Can you imagine that? _Security!_ And he didn't know anything about Dad or the boys and -" his face turned black, "and he _lost_ Alan."

Horrified, John jerked his gaze up, his blue eyes wide as he stared at his older brother. "_What?_ Lost Alan? How the hell do you lose a kid?"

"Jeff Tracy's kid at that," Scott grunted. "Who knows, takes talent I'd say… Either way that guy is a first class moron." He paused then looked speculatively at the other man. John was usually very good at reading people; how'd Blair manage to ingratiate himself with his fair haired sibling? "Wait a second… What exactly did he say to you?"

"Relax, bro, I was being sarcastic. If the guy was holding a 'give money here' cup out, he couldn't have been any more clearer." John turned his attention back to his younger brother. Reaching out with nimble fingers, he gently traced at the colorful bruises on Alan's back and his face twisted in sympathy, "Ouch, that's gotta hurt."

"Yeah," the dark haired pilot agreed tiredly then freed a hand long enough to scrub at his eyes. This had been a very long day. "Damnit. I don't even think he's seen a doctor yet… Lucid and not bleeding to death in a busy trauma center like this? He'll be low on the triage list, at best, even if he is a kid."

Visibly bothered, John frowned. "What's with all the skin? It's not that warm in here…" He lightly fingered the gown pooled around Alan's slim waist. "And this _is_ Al we're talking about, not the Naked Tracy."

_Gordon_. Modesty was definitely not a word in the red-head's vocabulary. Even turning fourteen hadn't put much of a dent in Gordon's love of the buff, although Jeff had managed to convince the young streaker that clothing was not optional at meal times. It was a start. Scott sucked in a worried breath; he still had three more family members to check on.

Reaching up to rub away at the start of a tension headache, Scott's face darkened. John was right of course. When Alan had turned eight he'd suddenly become fanatically modest, even refusing to change if his brothers were in the same room. The only time he was shirtless was when he was swimming but even then the kid kept a towel draped around his shoulders until the last possible moment.

It irked Scott and John as they worried about the sudden change in the previously unabashed youngster, while it was a never ending source of amusement for Gordon; Alan really did blush too easily. Virgil, on the other extreme, didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, either way. Scott got the impression that the young artist had inside knowledge but didn't press him about it, confident that if it was something that needed to be dealt with, Virgil would talk.

And that made what Scott had walked in on even the more incensing. "One word…"

John quirked an eyebrow, his attention back on Scott even as his fingers continued to gently stroke his little brother's bare back, offering comfort where he could. "Are you seriously going to make me guess?"

Scott took pity on his sibling and scowled. "Reporter."

The younger man's fingers stilled and a look of absolute disbelief creased his face. "You have got to be kidding me," he spat out. "No way."

"Yes way," the dark haired Tracy was grim, "even worse. Rawlings."

"That sonnovabitch," John's face hardened, his blue eyes flashed so dark they looked black, oh yeah, he knew exactly who Garth Rawlings was, but before he could say anything else, a soft knock on the door interrupted. A moment later a tall, thin, black man with white in his hair and wearing a doctor's coat stepped inside followed quickly by Wanking.

"Scott! John!" Blair was once again delighted with himself. He reached up (having to stand on his tiptoes to do so, the Tracys noticed with amusement in spite of the situation) and put a hand on the tall man's shoulder. "Dr. Priestly, just like I promised."

Scott turned to his younger brother and raised an eyebrow. _See? Moron_.

John glared back, blandly. _Duh._

"I understand you gentlemen are family of Jefferson Tracy?" the doctor didn't mince words as he shook off Blair's hand and approached them.

John slowly rose to stand beside his brothers but Scott remained seated. Scott answered for them, cool but not unfriendly. "We're his sons," he admitted then glanced down at Alan. "This is Alan, I'm Scott." He tipped his chin towards the other blond. "John."

"Good," the doctor nodded, acknowledging each, including the slumbering child, with a look, "let's cut to the chase then. Your father was admitted with severe abdominal trauma. His ribcage has been badly damaged, most likely by the same seatbelt restraint that saved his life. Three ribs are cracked, four broken; one of which punctured his right lung, another ruptured his spleen and nicked his stomach."

Scott felt all the blood draining from his face. _Oh, God._

John whispered, "Shit," and was suddenly leaning heavily against Scott's leg. The older brother instinctively reached out to brace the younger man as the doctor paused and watched them carefully seeming to understand how overwhelming this was for them. After another moment, Scott nodded for him to continue, the warmth of his brothers helping keep him grounded.

"He was rushed into surgery and, I won't lie, boys, it was touch and go there for a bit but your father pulled through and is now in recovery. He has lost quite a bit of blood and is pretty weak, but so far his vitals are holding and if it continues, I'll consider moving him into a private room in a couple of hours. Other than the obvious blood loss and trauma associated with the abdominal injuries and subsequent surgery, Mr. Tracy suffered a moderate concussion but, so far, is showing no signs of intracranial swelling." His chocolate gaze swept over the two white-faced youngsters and he gave them a small smile. "That's good, boys, real good. He _is_ currently intubated to give his injured lung a better chance to heal but that's more precaution than necessity at this point."

"See," Blair cut in as soon as Dr. Priestly stopped. "he's doing fine. Jake's the best there is and your father is in good hands, and just imagine how much more good it could be if we had the funds to expand!"

Scott was almost glad for the annoying administrator's presence; it gave him a place to direct his frustration. "Can you do us all a favor and just not say anything?"

The smaller man looked stunned. His mouth clamped shut, then opened, then shut again.

Dr. Priestly sighed and looked at his co-worker. "Don't look so shocked, Blair, that's not the first time someone's told you to shut the hell up." He turned back to the Tracys, "Like I said, this is good. Your father is still critical but I've every confidence that with time, he'll make a full recovery."

Relief swept over Scott but this time John spoke first, pushing away from his brother and extending a hand to the doctor. "Thank you, sir," he gushed, "you have no idea how much this means to us."

Dr. Priestly shook John's hand and smiled, it was wide and warm as his face was touched with just the right amount of compassion.

"You don't happen to have any information on either of our brothers, do you? Gordon and Virgil?" Scott demanded.

The black man frowned. "Didn't Dr. Avery update you? I know he was overseeing your brothers care."

"We haven't seen anyone," Scott deliberately excluded Blair, not counting the administrator's schizophrenic information as information at all. He glanced down at his youngest brother. "And I don't think Alan's been seen at all."

Jake Priestly exhaled tiredly and scrubbed a hand across his face. When he looked back at the brothers, he was apologetic. "I'm sorry… This place has been an absolute zoo tonight. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make an excuse for this but I just want to assure you that this isn't normally how we do things. I do know Dr. Avery was intending on coming to talk to you and if he hasn't, there will be a very good reason. However, what I can tell you is that your brother Virgil is doing well, all things considered. Like your father, he's got some busted ribs and a concussion. One of the ribs shifted, nicked his liver and he was rushed into surgery but he's just been moved to recovery and is stable."

That was pretty much what Blair had already told them so Scott pressed on, hopefully, "And Gordon? Do you have any news on Gordon?"

The doctor pursed his lips as he was obviously searching his memory for any mention between him and the other doctor about the fourteen-year-old.

"Concussion," Blair whispered loudly and Priestly nodded in remembrance.

"Ah, yes, again I must apologize, like I said, it's been a very long night. Gordon is in the ICU. He has a severe concussion and he's being watched for swelling on the brain. I don't have a lot of information other than that but if one of you wants to come with me, I can let you see him and if Martin is around, I'll have him talk to you."

Scott and John traded looks. They both wanted to go but neither wanted to leave Alan either.

"What about my dad and Virgil, can we see them too?" John asked, his fingers retracing their path on Alan's bare back.

"Not while they are in recovery," Dr. Priestly informed them and moved closer to the bed.

The brothers looked at each other again and then John gave a small shrug. "I'll stay with the Sprout. You go see Gordo."

"You sure?" Scott asked, already starting to gently untangle himself from Alan. With John's careful hands, they got the little boy settled on the bed, lying him on his less bruised side. John started to arrange his brother's gown when Dr. Priestly stopped him.

"Wait a sec. Let me take a quick look before you get him tucked in." His voice was welcome relief and Scott immediately liked the guy as John stepped to the side, letting the tall man in close.

"Can you wake him, please?" the doctor asked as he picked up the small digital chart next to the bed and glanced down at it. "I don't want to scare the poor kid. I think he's had an exciting enough day as is."

Scott suppressed a shiver. _Too exciting_, he thought then leaned over the little boy and gently squeezed his shoulder. John moved to stand behind him, strategically placing himself so that Alan could see both the older Tracys when he opened his eyes.

"Alan? Al? C'mon, Sprout, we need you to wake up for a moment," the pilot cajoled. "C'mon, open those baby blue eyes for us, okay? Look who's here."

Slowly, lethargically, Alan blinked his eyes half open. He seemed very confused and it took him a moment to focus on Scott who beamed at him proudly, "That's my boy!"

Alan stared at Scott for another moment and then slowly his gazed traveled upwards and over his shoulder towards John. The little boy frowned then slurred, "Jo'n?"

And John grinned back as he crouched next to the bed, at the child's eye level. "Hey, kiddo, about time. I was beginning to think I'd come all this way for nothing."

"Alan?" Dr. Priestly's voice interrupted as the tall man came from behind the older Tracys. "My name is Dr. Priestly, but you can call me Jake." Alan's eyes slowly tracked to the stranger. "I only let special people call me Jake, but I can tell just by your brothers how special you are."

The child seemed uncertain and turned back to Scott.

"He's going to take a look at you, okay?" the dark haired man tried to assure his little brother, "Just to make sure you're all right."

"Don' wanna."

Scott almost barked out a laugh in sheer relief at the petulance in Alan's voice. Now that sounded like the little brother he knew and loved. Behind him, he heard a soft exhale and knew John was thinking the same thing.

"Well, tough titty," John reached out a finger to gently flick the little boy's nose, "he's going to anyways…" His words trailed off, he glanced up at the doctor and kept his voice remarkably calm – probably so he wouldn't scare Alan – as he stated, "His pupils are dilated."

Scott immediately leaned over, awash with new worry. Did the kid have a concussion?

"According to this," the surgeon indicated the electronic chart, "he was sedated at the site after he became agitated." The man pulled out a small penlight. "Alan, do you mind if I take a quick look in your eyes? It won't hurt. I promise. I'm pretty sure," he continued when the little boy carefully sat up and acquiesced to the exam, "it's just the drugs, but we can never be too careful. Especilly with kids and a potential head injury."

Scott and John waited anxiously as the man gently manipulated Alan's head so he could get a good look in each of the wide blue eyes. After way too long in the older brothers' minds, the man gave the child a grin and stepped back. He glanced at the other men. "It's fine. Just the drugs. He _is_ going to be pretty sleepy, confused and unsteady for the next couple of hours so I'd like it if one of you can stay with him at all times to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself."

"As if we'd do anything else," Scott grumbled, put out by the suggestion, although he cut the doc _some_ slack since the man didn't know them and was just trying to protect Alan. That actually cut _a lot_ of slack with Scott.

"What about his ribs?" John pressed on eagerly as he stood back up. "He's got some spectacular bruising on his side and back."

Dr. Priestly nodded, then addressed the child again. "Alan, do you mind if I take a look? John sounds pretty worried about you."

Fear flashed across Alan's face and he turned towards Scott. _Damn, Rawlings_, the oldest Tracy mentally growled, even as he rushed to assure his increasingly distressed little brother. "It's okay, Al. Me and John are going to be right here. The whole time."

John gave him a curious look but Scott ignored him for the moment. He'd explain about Rawlings and Alan afterwards.

"Do I have 'ta?" the little boy murmured, bright red now coloring his cheeks as he looked down, suddenly finding his gown covered legs very interesting.

"Alan," Scott sighed out the name, hating himself for having to pressure the kid but there was no other choice, "yeah, you do."

"Okay," came a soft whisper and then Alan let his brothers' carefully help him lower the gown again, his blue eyes firmly fixed miserably on his lap. Scott really wished he knew some way to help his brother out but he didn't. The best thing he could do was let the kid know he wasn't alone.

"Wow," he teased hoping to distract Alan as the doctor began to gently inspect the bruises, "we need to get some meat on these bones, John, before Al plain fades away."

Alan's eyes lifted in horror and Scott realized he'd just said the wrong thing, he just had no idea what.

"Al?" Confused, the pilot reached out to touch his brother's shoulder but the kid flinched away and turned towards John instead. Wordlessly, John stepped closer and as soon as Dr. Priestly finished checking him out, Alan burst into tears and threw himself towards his blond brother.

"I want to go home, John," the child sobbed. "I want Daddy and Virgil and Gordie and I want to go home!"

"Oh Al," John soothed, his blue eyes wide with worry as he carefully embraced the child, sitting on the edge of the bed as Scott moved away, stunned by Alan's rejection. "I know. I know you do."

And then as Dr. Priestly told them he didn't think Alan was any worse than badly bruised but that he'd still like to get some x-rays, Scott could only concentrate on his younger brothers. _What the heck had just happened?_ Alan had never turned to anyone else (well except Jeff) if Scott was around.

Hurt and no little confused, he barely heard the doctor ask him if he was ready to see Gordon now and then numbly followed him out of the small room, leaving John to comfort the disconsolate little boy.

_Oh_, _Alan_, he wondered as he followed Dr. Priestly and the idiot, Blair, towards the ICU, _what's wrong with you?_

_tbc_


	6. Idiots and ICU

Sorry for the delay. I am going through a very emotionally rough time at this moment and won't have much time to write until May so until then, chapter posting will be a bit more sporadic. I hope you enjoy and yes, there is reason why Alan is behaving the way he is, so you'll just have to bare with me to find out.

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 6**

Scott stood next to Gordon's ICU bed and frowned. It was just so unnatural to see the normally energetic teen so, so_ quiet_. It was downright disconcerting.

Severe concussion, broken nose, bruises; the pilot shivered as he took stock of each of the injuries. Oddly enough it was the number of little raised bumps on the kid's neck and face, bug bites according to Gordon's doctor, Dr. Avery, that bothered him the most. Apparently Gordon had vomited sometime before he'd been rescued and the nutrient rich mess had attracted the vicious little attackers. Shivering again at the visual, Scott wrapped his arms around his body and sighed deeply. Oh God, this was all so messed up.

At least Gordon was breathing on his own though… That was something.

A soft sound behind him had Scott jerking around and then he relaxed when he recognized his brother's doctor. Dr. Avery was a short, round man with a jovial face, bright red hair that stuck out wildly, thick and refusing to weld to any sense of modern hairstyle, and dark brown eyes that flashed with good humor and quick wit. But like Dr. Priestly he was also professional and helped ease some of the concerns the younger man had about the care his family was receiving.

Mirroring Scott and John's introduction to the other doctor, Avery had been at first apologetic about his delay in speaking to the Tracys, and then attentive and thorough in his run down on both Gordon and Virgil, and his promise to follow up on Dr. Priestly's examination of Alan. Although the middle aged man was pretty sure Alan would be discharged into his brothers' care as soon as the x-rays gave the kid the all clear.

Virgil was still in recovery but Avery was also optimistic that they'd soon be able to move him to a regular room and Scott could hardly wait; eager for his brothers and father to be more accessible. Only then would he be able to see for himself that they were really going to be okay. And Scott still had to figure out what was up with Alan, although right now he was ready to write it off as a side effect of being overwhelmed. He'd have to see how the little blond was in a bit.

"Thought I was Blair, did'ya? Don't worry, I saw him down by the security desk talking to the police about something." The doctor grinned as he moved to the end of Gordon's bed and picked up the electronic chart and started to review the numbers. "Not that I can blame your concern though, he's a bit of a bastard."

Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise. The copper-topped doctor chuckled loudly as he glanced up and cocked his own eyebrow in challenge. "You care to dispute my diagnosis? I am a doctor after all…" he shrugged and got back to business, "and I call'em like I see'em."

"Not that," the younger Tracy admitted, "Just surprised. If everyone knows he's such an ass, how the hell did he ever get to be a hospital administrator? He's definitely not the image I'd like to see projected if I worked here."

Avery assessed Gordon's level of consciousness as he spoke. His hands moved with marked gentleness and skill. "What's that really got to do with anything, Mr. Tracy? You're in the world of business. Your father has a multi-billion dollar company. You should know better than anyone that it isn't always the cream that rises to the top. Unfortunately, more often than not in any bureaucracy it's the biggest brown noses that get the expense accounts."

"Mnufnk."

A mumble from Gordon interrupted and both men leaned over him expectantly.

"Gordon?" Scott pressed, grabbing his brother's unencumbered by an IV hand and watched anxiously as Gordon's eyes opened a crack. A sliver of brightness stared up at him and then Gordon's eyes slipped closed again.

"Oh no you don't," Scott chastised, gently squeezing his brother's hand harder. "C'mon fish-face, up and at'em… You don't want Alan eating all the pancakes do you?"

That got a scrunched up brow as if the teen was having trouble understanding and then the eyes were back open. Slowly they took in the room until finally finding and settling on Scott's face for a moment. Scott grinned, elated. Then Gordon whispered something that sounded an awful like 'Mud' and was out again.

The pilot deflated but Dr. Avery gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "That's good," he assured the younger man. "Very good. We'll let him rest for a bit then see if we can't get something more of him in about an hour."

Doubtfully, Scott stared down at his younger brother. "That was good?"

"Oh most definitely," he was assured. "Considering the knock he's taken? Gordon's breathing on his own and just told you off, so I'd say he's coming along nicely."

The dark haired pilot skewed the doctor a look. "Told me off? Sure sounded like _mud_ to me."

"Trust me," a wide smile just about ate Martin's Avery's face, "I speak concussion-eze."

When Scott just continued to look at the doctor, too exhausted to even appreciate the humor any more, Avery's smile turned to a look of concern. "C'mon," he tipped his head towards the hallway, "let's go check on Alan. If his x-rays are clear, I'll discharge him into your care and you guys can take off for a couple of hours and get some rest. I don't need any more Tracys taking up my beds." He chuckled softly. "Wanking would absolutely wet himself."

But Scott shook his head. "We'll go check on Al but I'm not leaving. I haven't even seen Virgil or my father yet."

"Look," Dr. Avery tried another approach. "I understand that you are very worried about your father and brothers, but they aren't the only ones you  
need to be thinking about right now-"

"Don't you dare try to tell me what my responsibilities are," Scott interrupted irritably, his opinion of the doctor souring quickly.

Avery ignored the outburst and continued, "Scott, you are tired and your family is in good hands. There is nothing, _absolutely_ nothing you can do for either of them now. But you can do something for Alan. He needs somewhere quiet, and not here, to get some good rest and try to deal with this. What he's been through is absolutely horrific and if you don't take the time now to try and help him work this out, well, I'm afraid it's just going to get a lot harder. Go. Get a room. Get some rest, spend some time with the kid, with _both_ your brothers, then come back. By that time your family is going to need you. Let us do our jobs right now, you go do yours."

Scott looked down on a sleeping Gordon. "But I need to be here when Gordo wakes up again. He's going to freak enough as is, let alone if one of the family isn't here…" Before Avery could interject anything else, he added, "But you're also right about Alan. I'll send him and John to a hotel." He turned a defiant glare on the doctor. "I'm staying."

"I think you're making a big mistake," Martin said but thankfully dropped it with a shrug. "But it's your family."

Pleased that the man wasn't going to try and push this any further, Scott fixed the thin sheet across Gordon's chest and gave his hand one final squeeze. "I'll be right back," he promised then turned back to the doctor. "Okay. Let's go see Alan now."

The two men had only just stepped into the hallway when a loud voice yelled out, "_That's him, Officers, I want that man arrested!" _

Scott felt his temper flare. It was that idiot reporter. And two police officers. And a rather hyper looking Blair Wanking. The hallway was an incredibly crowded place. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered.

"_He assaulted me!"_

Oh that did it.

Fury iced Scott's veins and he crossed the corridor in a couple of long strides. The police moved to intervene and Scott smartly stopped short of reaching out to throttle Garth Rawlings in front of them. "And shall we talk about what you did?" the infuriated Air Force pilot demanded. "I dunno, fellas," his eyes never left Rawlings face even as he addressed the two lawmen, "but isn't child pornography illegal in this country?" The paparazzi went white even as Blair practically bounced on the spot.

"It wasn't anything like that!" Garth tried to defend himself.

"What the hell do you call getting ready to take a picture of a half naked child?" Scott shot back, his jaw clenched tight in anger.

"It was bruises on a boy's _chest_," the reporter snorted, "not a girl's-"

"Oh don't be so stupid," the dark haired Tracy snapped but before he could say anything else one of the cops, an older white haired man held up his hand.

"Hold on," his voice was low but authoritative and Scott instinctively deferred to the man in charge. "I was told that this man," he indicated Rawlings, "was found in a minor's room but nothing was mentioned about these special circumstances."

"I was just getting to that!" Blair babbled out, scrambling back a bit when Scott's intimidating glare scorched him. "He, the reporter guy, was just getting ready to take a picture of young Mr. Tracy when we got there."

"Okay, okay," the cop nodded in understanding, "Clearly we are missing some relevant information about all this so if you gentlemen don't mind starting from the beginning, I'd like to take a statement from each of you in order to determine what charges are going to be laid and on whom."

Scott opened his mouth to protest but then snapped it shut realizing the futility of arguing with the police. He didn't regret punching Rawlings, he'd never regret defending one of his brothers, but the young pilot had to admit as the cops pulled them aside, that it probably hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done.

He just hoped it wouldn't take too long. He had brothers and a father to check up on.

------

"Where's Scott?" Alan's sleepy mumble startled John. After Scott had gone to see Gordon, Alan had fallen asleep, half pure exhaustion, half painkillers and the lingering effect of the sedative he'd been given. The poor kid hadn't even woken when he'd been taken to the radiology department for x-rays. A smiling orderly with long dark hair had just given John a wink, unlocked the wheels on Alan's bed and quickly pushed it out of the room assuring the young man that they wouldn't be long. And they weren't. Within a half an hour, a still slumbering Alan had been returned and John had been quietly watching him sleep since then.

Scott had now been gone over two hours, not that John had been counting or anything but his anxiousness to find out any information about the rest of his family was gnawing away at the blond haired man.

Shifting closer to his littlest brother, John smiled at the blurry blue eyes watching him. Alan was still too pale for his liking. "Gone to see Gordon." He reached out to gently brush at a small bruise on the kid's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

Alan didn't answer the question, instead he tried to sit up.

"Hey, hey, no doing that," John carefully restrained the nine-year-old. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I need to see Gordie," Alan insisted, trying to push his brother's hands away but John had years of experience wrestling with wrangly little boys and easily kept the much smaller Tracy down. It didn't stop Alan from continuing to resist though. "Let me go, John!" he demanded, "I need to go!"

"You can't see Gordon yet," John tried to explain, "He's in the ICU-"

"I don't care!" Alan was really starting to work himself up now. "I want to see him!"

Deciding that firmness might be the only way to get through to his agitated sibling, John spoke sternly. "Stop it, Alan. You can't. So just stop it."

With surprising strength, Alan suddenly yanked away from John and would have slid off the other side of the bed if the side railing hadn't been up. As it was, the kid ended up pressed painfully against the bar but he refused to give in even though John could see how much it was hurting him. "I don't care!" he repeated, kicking at his brother to keep him away.

"Alan," John's patience was paper-thin. He didn't like to see any of his brothers in pain and especially hated it when they were doing it to themselves. Moving quickly, he used his body to pin down the kicking legs and tried to grab Alan's wrists to keep the kid from scrambling over the side rail. "Would you just calm down? You can't see Gordon yet so stop this silliness and-" a sharp kick to the groin and John actually whited out in pain. Slumping away from his brother and practically doubling over in pain, he barely realized Alan was off the bed and crouched in front of him before Alan's small hands were gripping his shoulders tightly as his little brother tried to see his face. John squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry!"

"Alan," John managed to hiss. "Get. Back. In. Bed."

"But-"

"Alan…"

One more whispered, "I'm sorry," and Alan obeyed or at least John hoped he did because the kid was suddenly gone and John didn't have the ability yet to lift his head to check on him, and then Scott was there, kneeling in front of him, stronger hands now on his shoulders, a deeper voice demanding to know what was going on.

_Good question, Scotty_, John thought, having no idea what the hell was going on either, Alan never acted like this. _I'd like to know that myself..._

_tbc_


	7. I hate you, I hate you not

_I'm baaaaaaack!! Sorry for the long delay in posting but things have finally settled down in my real life. Thank you for all your kind words and well wishes and now I can get back to writing! I hope you enjoy this update and you won't have to wait as long for the next one. Please let me know what you think! And don't worry, more Gordon, Virgil and even Jeff in the coming chapters as they slowly return to the land of the living._

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 7**

"_I don't care_." The petulance in Alan's voice made John sigh. He really was too tired for this. Couldn't the kid just give him a _tiny_ break? "I want to see Gordon. Now!"

Yes, Alan felt horrible and kept saying so for accidentally kicking John in the jewels, but that remorse didn't really make him any easier to deal with. Especially after Scott had insisted that John and Alan get a hotel room once Dr. Avery gave Alan the all clear while Scott himself stayed behind; which the good doctor had done after carefully reviewing Alan's x-rays and assuring them that while the kid would most definitely be tender, nothing was cracked or broken. Just painfully and nastily bruised.

So now at the butt crack of dawn, instead of getting any sleep in the nice room at a nearby hotel, John was facing off with a nine-year-old. A very, very grumpy nine-year-old. "Alan," he tried to be reasonable, "it's not even eight o'clock. For God's sake, can't we just get a couple of hours of sleep, a decent breakfast and then go back to the hospital? By then Gordon might actually be awake." He had no idea why Alan was so insistent on seeing the red-head when the boy hadn't even asked about Virgil or their father yet.

But the youngest Tracy was shaking his head, "No, John, not later. _Now_."

John glared at the child. Alan had been at this ever since they'd been dropped off a few hours ago and his patience, already stretched way too thin for both their sakes, snapped. "Enough," he barked and lifted his hand towards one of the two doors that led to separate bedrooms. "Get your scrawny little ass into one of those rooms – and I don't want to hear a peep from you until I say it's time to go – or I am going to kick it all the way back to the island for you! Is that clear?" His outburst shocked Alan. John didn't usually get upset and pretty much never at Alan, so the older blond was counting on the child being stunned into peaceful compliance.

And for one moment it seemed to work. The youngest Tracy stared open mouthed at his sibling, yelled, "I hate you!" and then threw himself through the closest door, slamming it with a resounding thud.

John slumped down on the couch, leaned forward and let his head rest in his hands, long nimble fingers reached up to gently massage his temples and he sighed loud and long. That was so not the reaction he was going for.

------

"Mr. Tracy?" Blair's annoying voice snapped Scott awake. Apparently sometime after returning to Gordon's bedside, he'd managed to drift off in the horrid straight backed chair he was sitting in next to the bed, arms folded across his chest, head tilted back at a very uncomfortable angle.

Straightening up quickly, the young pilot tried to rub out a kink in his neck as he turned an exhausted and blurry gaze on the grating little administrator. Didn't that guy have a home to go back to? Although Scott supposed he owed a modicum of patience to the man as it was Blair's interpretation of earlier events that broke the stalemate between Scott, the reporter and the police.

Although Scott wasn't pleased that Rawlings was merely removed from the premises, warned about his conduct and let go, he knew that pushing things could have led to charges against both himself and Garth and that was something the family really didn't need right now. His father was already going to be pissed about the whole thing as it was. Jeff Tracy frowned upon unnecessary violence and the unwanted attention it generated, as if word of the plane crash wasn't going to do just that.

"Good news!" Blair beamed. "Your father has been moved to his own room and you can see him."

That was good news.

Glancing towards his red-haired brother as Gordon mumbled something about ducks, Scott reached out and gently squeezed his brother's hand. "Shhh, Gordo," he murmured, "you're okay." Instantly the teen quieted down making the older man smile briefly before turning his attention back to Blair. "What about Virgil?"

"Virgil-" Dr. Avery walked towards them and picked up Gordon's chart, his eyes quickly skimming the latest read-outs, "is doing very well. Though he has developed a low-grade post-op fever so I'd like to keep him in recovery a little longer," Scott went pale but the doctor rushed to assure him, "but don't worry. That wasn't unexpected and I'm sure both your brothers," he put down Gordon's chart and indicated the sleeping boy with a tip of his chin, "will be up, around and driving you crazy in no time."

Scott was only slightly reassured and sighed. "I really do hope so."

Martin Avery reached out and gave the younger man's shoulder a pat. "Don't worry, Scott, they're in very good hands. Did your other brothers get off okay?"

"Yeah…" The dark haired Tracy watched as once again the doctor gently and thoroughly examined Gordon. The other man noticed the hesitancy and glanced at him.

"Yeah? But…?"

Scott didn't feel like having this conversation with Blair hovering; the man was positively eager and Martin seemed to pick up on it.

"Hey, Blair," he started, "can you check with admitting to make sure they've got a nice room for Virgil and Gordon? I'd like to put them both in the same one."

"Oh most certainly!" Blair gushed, almost falling over himself at having an actual task to do. Scott and Martin watched him leave and as soon as the man was out of earshot, the flame haired doctor raised an eyebrow at Scott. He sorta reminded the young man of Gordon in a vague way, and not just because of the hair color.

"But?"

"But I think there's something going on with Alan and I'm just not sure if I'm over reacting or if it's really something I need to be concerned about." It actually felt good to admit this to someone. He hadn't said anything to John yet because Alan had been with them the whole time, but the more Scott thought about his youngest sibling's outbursts and uncharacteristic displays, the more worried he was.

"In what way?" Dr. Avery asked quietly as he beckoned for Scott to join him at the foot of Gordon's bed, obviously concerned about disturbing the increasingly conscious teenager.

"Well…" Okay how to put it without sounding too big on himself… Scott hesitated and then shrugged, "I'm not an ego maniac or anything, please believe me, but until now Alan worshipped me. Pretty much kissed the ground I walked on. He drove my family crazy with all his 'Scott this', and 'Scott that' and now he – well after his initial relief of me being here – he seems angry with me. He's moody, unpredictable and not in an Alan way. _Alan_ isn't like that. Yeah, sure, he has his moments, annoying little brother at best you know, but overall he isn't like this – and I… I just don't know. Maybe he does have a concussion or something." It all came out in a rush and the pilot wasn't even sure the doctor would be able to follow along with what he was saying, but Martin only nodded his head and seemed to consider Scott for a few moments before finally saying anything.

"I think," he started slowly, "Alan is behaving exactly how I'd expect a child to react right after being through a traumatic event like the plane crash. It's a lot to take in and he's going to have to work through it but hopefully with time and the support of his family, he'll bounce right back to the Alan you know… However, I must caution you, there is also a very good chance that he, and possibly Gordon or Virgil, are going to suffer from post traumatic stress disorder – PTSD – and that is going to require much more time and, quite possibly, outside help. Now the likelihood of it happening actually decreases with age. Middle school children, like Alan, have about a 33% chance of developing PTSD while only about 27% of teens do if that is any consolation-"

Scott nodded as he listened. As a member of the military he was familiar with PTSD and kicked himself for not even considering it before. Probably because he'd only ever heard it referred to in terms of soldiers.

"-however for now, I'm reluctant to say that that is exactly what's going on with him. If these changes in behavior, moodiness and, in general, un-Alan like attitudes do continue then, yes, it will definitely be something to be reconsidered. Until then, just support the kid, make sure he feels safe and loved and I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in no time… And no, for the record, he's definitely not concussed." Dr. Avery finished with a smug grin.

The pilot carefully considered what the other man said, making a mental note to talk to John about this when they got a chance. He wasn't sure how much the younger Tracy knew about the disorder and wanted them to be fully prepared to help their brothers if either of them, or – heaven forbid – all of them developed post traumatic stress. But satisfied for now, Scott put his immediate worry for Alan aside and decided it was time to go see his father.

Jeff being moved to a private room was a good thing, even if it was going to make things that much harder for Scott until John and Alan came back, since he hated the idea of any of his family members being alone while he visited the other. Which reminded him, he needed to give John a call – he winced as he saw the time and decided to wait a few more hours first – and get in touch with Brains. He'd already spoken to the man just after his brothers left, but knew the scientist would be chomping at the bit for an update.

And then Dr. Avery announced that he'd like to take Gordon for one final CAT scan and that allowed Scott to slip off to his father's room without worrying. Too much.

------

John was almost asleep when he heard the bedroom door quietly open. He'd opted to just stretch out on the couch instead of lying down in the other room in case Alan had trouble sleeping or something. The brilliant young man wanted to make sure he'd hear if he was needed.

He kept his eyes closed though, curious to see what the kid was going to do. Was Alan seriously going to try to sneak off back to the hospital himself? That thought worried him. What was Alan's apparent obsession with seeing Gordon? Sure they were closer in age than Alan was to any of his other brothers but John had never seen anything between the two to warrant such a need in Alan. And it bothered him, not that Alan was so concerned with Gordon – that part was warming – but the franticness behind it.

Keeping his breathing even, he listened to the child move quietly across the room towards him until Alan stopped next to the couch.

"John?" His name was whispered but he still feigned sleep.

"J-Johnny?" A little louder this time, followed by a slight shake on his shoulder. It was the small tremor in his brother's voice though, that had John opening his eyes to find himself eye level with a cerulean blue gaze as Alan was kneeling down next to the couch.

"Alan?" He watched the child noting the brightness of the eyes, the tear tracks on the pale face and knew the boy was hurting. "Are you okay?" Maybe it was time for more pain meds. "Do you need more medicine?"

The child sniffled softy and shook his head.

"Then what?" John pressed quietly, not moving an inch.

"Can I-," Alan started, stopped then started again, obviously uncomfortable. "Can I sleep with you?"

This surprised John. Alan was a pretty independent kid and didn't usually seek out that kind of comfort unless it was pretty serious, clown serious (kid had a bit of a phobia there) or thunderstorm serious.

He didn't answer the question right away; instead he asked one of his own, "I thought you hated me?"

Alan's bottom lip actually quivered, as his eyes widened and he pushed away to stand, shocked by the perceived rejection. That wasn't what John meant so he gently grabbed the child's arm to stop the retreat and quickly sat up wincing slightly at the dull throb that reawakened in his groin. "Hey, hey, wait, don't go anywhere, Al. I just wanted to know if you're still angry at me."

Dropping his gaze to the floor, the little blond shook his head and mumbled something.

Hooking a finger under Alan's chin, John made the boy look at him. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I don't hate you," the nine-year old spoke a bit more loudly this time but the absolute misery in his voice broke his older brother's heart. "I just need to see Gordo real bad, that's all."

"Why, kiddo?" The eighteen-year-old took the opening, his long fingers tugging the kid towards him so that Alan was sitting beside him on the couch. He wrapped an arm around the trembling shoulders and pulled the boy in close. "Why do you need to see Gordon so badly?"

"'Cause I promised Virgil," Alan told him matter-of-factly and then yawned tiredly and asked again, "I know I wasn't being nice… and I'm sorry… and you can be mad at me if you want, but can I sleep with you… please?"

John still wasn't sure what Alan was talking about but gave it up for now, as he could see how exhausted his brother was. The last twenty-four hours had been hard on the kid. Hard on them all. Scratch that… the last _couple of days_ had been hell, he silently amended thinking about the ill-fated aquarium trip. God, was it only a couple of days ago that Alan and Gordon had been in a New York City hospital recovering from hypothermia? No wonder the poor little guy was so strung out.

"What's wrong with your bed?" he wondered aloud going back to his earlier surprise at the request.

Alan shrugged self-consciously and John decided not to push it. He was tired as well.

"Yah, of course you can, Sprout." He stood and pulled the kid to his feet, "Go on in and get in bed," he indicated the previously unused room. The couch wouldn't be comfortable for two. "I'm going to see if Scott called." He knew his older brother wouldn't have called the room directly. Not this early in the morning and not unless it was an emergency. Scott would have left a message at the front desk. "Then I'll be right in." Alan hesitated, his eyes darting between the empty room and John.

John sighed, "Or you can wait for me and we can both go in together."

A quick and relieved smile from Alan made him shake his head fondly, even as John hoped his little brother would be feeling much more like himself with a couple of good hours of sleep.

A guy could hope, right?

tbc


	8. Freaking out

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 8**

Scott hesitated outside his father's hospital room. As anxious as he was to see the man, the young pilot was also terrified. He'd never seen his father so badly injured before. Sure, Jeff Tracy broke bones, but this? _This_ was something else and it scared Scott. No matter how bad things had ever gotten in the past, even when their mother died, Scott could always turn to his father but now… not this time. This time the twenty-one year old was on his own.

"Your father is still intubated," Dr. Priestly reminded Scott as he waited patiently for the younger man to go into the room. "But he _is_ doing well and I'm hoping to remove the vent sometime tomorrow. I don't want him to become too dependent on it – lungs tend to get lazy."

The Air Force pilot appreciated the attempt at levity even if he couldn't smile; his stomach was just too tied up in knots at the moment. Instead he nodded, took one more deep breath and then pushed the door open.

_Ready or not, here I go._

His father actually didn't look too bad if you could get past the ventilator sucking up most of his face and the other tubing that snaked around the unconscious man. Scott paled and swallowed hard. Actually, if he hadn't been told that this was his father, the younger Tracy would not have recognized him. What he could see of Jeff's face was swollen and badly bruised. It hit him even harder than seeing Gordon in the ICU had.

Silently he stood by the bed and stared down trying to reconcile this person to the one who'd dropped him off the prior day but it was too hard. And when his vision blurred and he found it too hard to breathe, Scott had to leave.

Dr. Priestly watched him go but didn't say anything.

------

Scott got to the end of the hall and ducked through a doorway and into the stairwell. His heart was pounding as he pressed his back against the cold concrete, closed his eyes and panted harshly. Anger burned bright as he banged the back of his head against the wall once, then twice, before finally bowing forward and crouching down unable to accept his own reaction. He was stronger than this. He was a God-damned soldier for cripes sake. But seeing his Dad looking so vulnerable and so un-Dad-like had cut through his normal emotional armor in a way few other things could. It was like losing his mother all over again, which Scott knew was stupid since even the doctor was confident of Jeff's survival. But still –

The young man huffed out bitterly. But still this was his Dad…

And then he snorted loudly. Maybe Alan's new attitude towards him wasn't so far off the mark. This wasn't how heroes behaved. A slight chirp against his hip told Scott someone was trying to call him. He pulled out the phone unable to just ignore it, no matter how much he wasn't ready to deal with anyone else at the moment and then winced when he saw it was John. This wasn't someone he would ignore.

Putting the phone up to his ear, Scott cleared his throat, steadied his voice and took the call.

------

John knew right away that something was off with Scott. The only problem was getting his older brother to admit what.

"Do you need us to come?" he asked watching Alan yawn as the kid waited for John to come to bed, and kinda hoped Scott said 'no'.

"_Did you guys get any sleep?"_ the older Tracy asked instead of answering.

"Well," it would be no use lying. "Not exactly."

And now Scott must have picked up on something in John's tone. _"What do you mean 'not exactly'? What's wrong?"_

"Nothing, really," the blond scrubbed a hand across his face, "Just some settling in issues."

Scott paused at that but before John could elaborate, his older brother guessed, _"Alan?"_

"Got it in one."

The pilot hesitated a moment then asked, _"Is he okay?"_

John chewed his lip for a moment as exhausted blue eyes gazed at him. How the nine-year-old was still awake amazed him. "He will be," the young man promised, reluctant to call what Alan was right now 'okay' in any sense of the word; maybe after a couple of hours of sleep and some time to deal with what happened, but not right now. "Scott," he ventured on, unable to shake the uncertainty that something was up with his brother, "what's going on? Has something happened-"

"_No,"_ Scott cut him off before John could get himself worked up. "_Nothing like that. I promise."_

The blond let out a relieved breath.

"_I just..._" his older brother's sigh could be felt through the phone and John held his breath hoping Scott would continue. He did. _"I just kinda freaked out a bit when I saw Dad."_

John frowned. "Freaked out?"

A bitter snort deepened his frown as Scott continued. _"Look, man, its just stupid. I'm okay. It was just… stupid."_

"I doubt that," John retorted. "Scott-"

"_Look Johnny, just do me a favor, and drop it, okay? I'm okay and I gotta go," _Scott was talking faster now in a hurry to get off the phone. _"You and Al just chill there for a couple more hours and try to get some sleep… Tell the kid I'll talk to him later. I really need to get back and see if I can get an update on Virgil. Take care of things, bro."_ And then Scott was gone leaving a frustrated and worried John staring at the phone.

"John?" Alan's quiet voice startled him and he quickly looked at the little boy. "Is everything okay?"

John stared at the kid for a few moments. _No, nothing was okay_, and then forced a smile and reached out to gently grab one of the slender shoulders and used it to steer Alan towards the bedroom. "Yeah, Sprout, everything is absolutely perfect…"

------

Gordon's head hurt. Oh man, did it hurt. It kinda reminded him of the time he'd – the thought slithered away.

What was that again?

Oh yeah, his head hurt.

Somewhere around him the world was rather noisy. And not the good noisy. Not the good '_I'm back from a long trip and brought Gordon a wonderful gift_', kinda noisy. No, this was more like –

He frowned. It was more like what?

What was more like what?

Okay, it was official, he was getting exhausted just trying to think and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.

"_Gordo?"_

Someone's voice screeched through his ears and it hurt!

"G'way," he growled. Only it didn't come out as a growl and he was sure it sounded more like 'gravel' than what he meant to say and the screeching continued. Only louder.

"_Gordon? C'mon, bro, wake up!"_

Why? He wondered. Why would he want to wake up when he was miserable enough without it? Things only got worse when he was awake. Things like planes crashing and –

Oh shit!

Feelings of panic, fear, terror swept over him –

That really happened.

Instantly, his eyes snapped open, "Dad!" he cried out and then promptly threw up.

Yeah. See. Being awake just made things worse.

------

Scott was excited and terrified. Excited because Gordon had finally and truly woke up but terrified because his kid brother had then gotten quite sick and was now white-faced and exhausted, panting softly as a nurse gently wiped his face with a cool cloth and told the kid everything was going to be okay.

He wanted to be the one to comfort Gordon but the nurse had gently but firmly told him to let her get the teenager settled down and cleaned up first. She'd even suggested he go get a coffee, which Scott was absolutely dying for right now, but one withering Tracy look had her smiling softly and not mentioning it again.

Scott was pretty sure she wanted him. But she'd have to wait. He had family to take care of first.

"Gordon?" He pressed against the side of the bed when he was finally given the go ahead by the nurse. And now that he was getting his own way he realized she was kinda cute, in a hot nurse kinda way. He reached out to grasp his brother's hand. It was cool to the touch but he grinned anyways when Gordon latched on to him and fixed a blurry gaze on Scott's face. "Hey, bro, how you doing?"

"Dad?" Gordon rasped out, not answering his older brother's question. "How's Dad?" He moaned softly and closed his eyes, "'an Virg… an- an-"

"And Alan?" Scott finished for him, warmed and proud that Gordon's first concerns were for his family. The kid obviously remembered the accident.  
"They're fine, Gordo. All fine. In fact Alan is at a hotel with John right now getting some sleep." He didn't want to overwhelm the fourteen-year-old with the extent of their father or Virgil's injuries yet. One thing at a time. Gordon first needed to realize they were going to be fine. The rest was pure semantics.

The glare he got when Gordon forced his eyes back open for a moment made Scott grin. Nope, his keen minded younger brother wasn't buying that for a second, but it was a testimony to just how crappy the red head was feeling that he didn't press it right now. Instead Gordon mumbled something that sounded like 'good' and then relaxed by degrees against the white sheets and was back asleep before Scott could even tell him to go.

And then Dr. Avery came beaming into the room and asked if Gordon was ready for a roommate.

------

Alan could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he was back on the plane. Next to him, John snored lightly; his warm arm draped over Alan's side was the only thing keeping the youngest Tracy from totally freaking out. But it didn't stop the slight tremors that raced across his skin as he remembered waking up as the plane was crashing and he doubted he'd ever be able to fall asleep again. And it didn't keep him from being scared that he'd somehow let his family down.

Virgil asked him to be brave. To be brave for them 'cause they were hurt and they needed Alan to be brave. But Alan hadn't been. Alan had been scared. No, not scared, terrified, and even now as he lay pressed against the warmth of his older brother's body, Alan was still scared.

The sound of a soft buzz near his ear startled Alan. He jerked and slipped out from under John's arm, his eyes wide as he stifled a soft moan when pain laced through his bruised body. What was that?

His gaze skittered over his sleeping brother surprised the older blond hadn't roused when Alan had jumped out of the bed. Geez, John must have been _really_ tired.

Another buzz and Alan felt his heart pound – it was a fly. There was a fly in the room! Instantly the child was assaulted by memories of Gordon being swarmed by insects.

No!

_Gordon._

Panic seared and all his thoughts became one. _Gordon. Gordon_. Alan had to get to Gordon. Now.

Without any thought for a coat or shoes, the nine-year-old quietly slipped out of the hotel room and into the hall. He stood for a moment, his arms wrapped protectively around his body and looked back towards the room. John was going to be mad… _real_ mad… but John didn't understand. No one would understand.

With one more final look, the child sucked in a shaky breath and headed for the stairs.

"I'm coming Gordo," he whispered. "I'm coming."

TBC


	9. Collision Course

_Hey guys, thank you for all your wonderful comments and support - they do keep me smiling and motivated. Sorry for the delay but there's been some heavy stuff going on in RL but I'm still plugging away at this. And a special thank you to Red Hardy and Trasan who put up with my neuroticness as I write. You ladies are the best!_

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 9**

Waking up was a bitch, sixteen-year-old Virgil Tracy decided. Especially when it felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest and your head was beating in time to some pretty nasty drummers. All of whom had taken up permanent residence in his head.

Concussion and broken ribs he ascertained, appreciating the cool numbness that was fed in through his veins, fairly pleased with his level of coherency and thankful for painkillers. It still hurt to think though and he seriously considered giving it up for a bit except that he had some stuff he needed to know. Like how everyone was doing, because he was pretty certain that if he was living in drug dulled pain then other people he cared about might be hurting too. And yes, oddly enough he knew exactly what a medicated buzz felt like courtesy of a case of appendicitis when he was a kid. What the hell was he thinking? He was still a kid. Plus his last real memory was of dropping Scott off at his Air Force base.

_Hmmm… so we might have crashed then_, he decided as he forced his eyes to open and then blurrily blinked them to focus. Yeah, definitely a hospital… His gaze lingered upwards. _Oh, nice ceiling._ He supposed the idea of a crash should have bothered him but not yet. Any sense of urgency was lethargic and suppressed, he'd just have to work up the energy to be anxious a little later.

To his right he heard voices. It only took a moment to recognize his oldest brother's and he managed a very small smile as he could already imagine how pissed off Scott was going to be that he wasn't hovering right over Virgil when Virgil so obviously regained consciousness…

But then even that slight effort proved too much and when he slowly blinked his eyes the next time, they closed and didn't open again.

------

"Hey kid," a strange man's drunken slur made Alan move more quickly. He remembered the hospital being just down the road from the hotel but he certainly hadn't counted on exactly how far down the road it actually was. And if he wasn't so desperate to see Gordon he might have turned around and gone back, even as the large building came into sight.

His bare feet slapped the early afternoon pavement as he tried to ignore the press of strangers as the lunch time crowds moved back and forth along the busy sidewalk. No one except that guy seemed to pay any attention to a small blond child in borrowed pale blue hospital pajamas as he hurried past.

_Gordon. Gordon. Gordon._ The one thought kept pushing him. He had to see Gordon but for the life of him right now, Alan couldn't remember why.

The nine-year-old didn't stop running until he was finally inside the hospital, darting in through the first set of doors he came to. The Emergency department as luck would have it. The faint hiss of the automatic doors badly startled him and Alan lurched to the side and flattened himself against a dull yellow wall. His eyes were wide and his breathing harsh and hitched as the pain in his chest amplified and protested loudly against all this abuse. He swallowed hard as nausea paled his face and burned at the back of his throat.

A couple of people briefly glanced at him then turned away quickly dismissing him in the face of their own crises.

Now that he was actually here, Alan wasn't sure what to do. The need to see Gordon still pressed painfully but as he forced himself to calm down and waited out the sickness and pain, he had no idea what to do next. Would they tell him where his family was or would they call Security and have them sort Alan out? The child's body slumped against the wall in defeat. Things were always so much easier when he had a big brother around.

He sighed knowing he was going to have to do this the hard way – one room at a time. Surely there wouldn't be that many rooms would there? For one thing, Alan was pretty certain he could skip the maternity and old people's wards, unless of course the hospital was pressed for space.

Groaning softly the determined child in light blue hospital pajamas pushed himself away from the wall and wearily crossed the busy waiting room. He had a brother to find.

------

It was John's bladder that finally woke him.

Grumbling under his breath when he glanced at the clock and realized he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours, he slowly pulled his exhausted body out of bed and idly scratched at his bare chest as he padded his way to the bathroom.

After finishing and washing his hands, the blond young man yawned loudly and stared at the pale-faced stranger in the mirror. He frowned at the dark circles under his eyes and decided more sleep was required. At least two more hours and then he and Alan could go back to the hospital and relieve Scott.

Realizing that Alan wasn't in the bed when he'd gotten up John assumed that his littlest brother must have already gotten up and was quietly watching t.v. in the other room or something. Although he was surprised that the kid was already awake. He'd been expecting Alan to sleep well into the early afternoon.

"Hey, Al?" he called out, his voice sleep husky as he crossed the bedroom and opened the door leading to the other room, "Why don't you-" The words tapered off when he didn't immediately see the blond head of his younger sibling.

Wide awake now, John quickly checked out the other bedroom and even the balcony but there was no sign of his sibling.

"You have got to be friggin' kidding me!" the young man growled as he yanked  
open the doorway and stepped into the hallway. "AL!" he yelled down the  
empty corridor. "ALAN!" But when there was still no sign of the kid John felt the first sliver of worry._ Oh shit, this isn't good…_

His worry intensified when he wondered what the heck Alan was wearing as neither he nor Scott had had a chance to pick up anything for the kid and hoped he'd at least had enough sense to put on the jacket they'd borrowed from the Lost and Found to bring him back to the hotel in.

Hurrying back into the room, his face darkened when he saw both the jacket and Alan's shoes lying discarded on the floor. Great, not only was Alan AWOL, he was semi-dressed. Roughly pulling on his jeans and a shirt, John couldn't help but wonder exactly what the penalty for fratricide was in this state because when he found Alan, the gentle-natured Tracy was going to kill him.

Grabbing his cell phone, the blond was dialing as he left the room. He  
had a pretty good idea where Alan had gone and he just hoped was right.

Oh and if Alan thought John was going to be pissed for him taking off like this, that would be nothing compared to what Scott's reaction was going to be. Scott, John knew, was already wound up tight enough with worry over Gordon, Virgil and their dad, so this little stunt of Alan's was not going to go over well… At all.

------

Scott stood between Gordon and Virgil's beds, a straight-backed, stiff limbed sentinel. Nothing moved except his eyes. He'd spend a couple of moments looking at one brother, taking in every movement, vigilant for any signs of distress or consciousness and then he'd look at the other. If there was a way he could have each eye watch a different brother, he would have found it. As it was, all this was doing was making him more agitated with each rotation.

"C'mon, boys," he whispered, "give me something to work with here." He'd not been back to see his father since Virgil had been moved in with Gordon although the doctors and nurses kept him very well informed on the senior Tracy's recovery. Jeff was holding his own and everyone was optimistic but until the vent was removed, Scott couldn't bring himself to go back. It was his own personal form of denial. As long as he didn't have to see it, his father wasn't that vulnerable.

His cell phone ringing didn't interrupt his vigilance as he had it out and up against his ear in one smooth motion. "What's wrong?" he demanded knowing it was John and knowing his blond brothers should have still been asleep. Something had woken them up and it was something enough for John to call. Although Scott cut him some slack since his brother might have just been calling for an update but the brief explosion of a frustrated sigh just before John started talking took that thought away. And John cut right through to the chase.

"_Alan's gone."_

Scott stared dumbly at the phone in his hand for a moment. _What? _

"_Scott? You still there?"_

"Sorry, Johnny," he managed a humorless chuckle, "thought you said _Alan's gone_ but he can't be because he's there with you." His voice dropped to a growl and he didn't mean to sound accusatory, but… _"right?"_

"_Don't you dare give me any grief about this," _the normally mild mannered Tracy snapped, "_I've been kicked in the jewels and had to put up with the Sunshine Kid for the past couple of hours so suck it up and just listen to me for a second__;__ Alan took off. Slipped out while I was sleeping but I'm pretty sure he's on his way there. I take it he's not there yet."_

Scott swiveled around, taking a good look in the room, even under the beds as if Alan could have somehow snuck in while his back was turned. Although he knew the kid, while sneaky quiet when he wanted to be, could not have gotten in without him noticing. Still somewhat stunned at the idea that Alan was missing, Scott struggled for a moment with how to respond but John was in a bigger hurry.

"_Scott, for cripes sake, is he there or not?"_

Anger. Scott decided anger was a good response. And probably even a sliver of worry, as if he had any anxiety left to spare. "Of course not," he moved towards the door, "get your ass over here, I'll have Security keep an eye out, and once we find Alan, that's it, he's going home. Back to the island."

John was quiet for a moment but as Scott barged into the hallway and headed towards the nurses desk, he questioned, _"You sure that's a good idea? I mean everyone, including Dad are here…"_

"I don't care." Scott's anger spat venom. "There's too much going on, I can't be having to worry about what Alan is or isn't going to do. He knew better than this. He knows that this is the last thing we need right now and since I can't trust him to do what he's told, he's going to have to go home. At least there I know he's safe. Brains and Kyrano are there and it'll give us a chance to get some clothes for Dad and the guys."

"_Us?"_ Leave it up to John to pick up on that, _"Don't you mean me?" _

"John," Scott paused next to the large nursing desk and lowered his voice, "please… I know you want to stay too and I'm not saying don't. In fact, I could really use you right now but someone has to take Alan home and seeing as I'm not exactly his favorite person at this moment-"

"_And probably won't be for a long time_," John conceded quietly, "_when you order him home." _Scott waited knowing the younger man had already agreed. His patience was rewarded a moment later when, with a loud huff, the blond exhaled, _"Fine. But you owe me for this_, _bro_," and then disconnected the call to hail a cab.

Scott smiled tightly as he pocketed the phone and thanked whoever was responsible for giving him brothers like Alan, Gordon and Virgil that they'd also given him a brother like John.

Now time to put the APB out on the littlest Tracy.

tbc


	10. Awakening

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 10**

Alan could not believe his luck when he saw his oldest brother come out of a room at the end of the hall. That had to be where Gordon was – he just knew it. Quietly, he hurried towards the room, his bare feet blessedly quiet on the floor. Being raised on a tropical island, barefoot more often then not, had toughened his feet, although the cool flooring still chilled and for the first time the kid regretted not putting on his shoes before leaving.

Scott had his back turned, talking to someone on the phone and never saw the blond child. Which was a good thing, Alan knew, as he was pretty certain John wasn't his only older sibling that wasn't going to be too very pleased with him right now.

But, they just didn't seem to understand how badly he needed to see Gordon. He had to see for himself that his red-haired brother was okay. Not only because he'd promised Virgil but because Alan was terrified that the bugs had hurt the fourteen-year-old worse because of his delay in reacting. And even then, all he'd been able to think of doing was throwing water on Gordon. If any one else was there, Alan was positive they'd have done something better.

The first thing he noticed when he slipped inside was that there were two beds in the room but his attention was immediately drawn to the one with the mop of red hair. Gordon.

Not wanting to wake Virgil, Alan crept towards Gordon and peered anxiously at his older sibling.

Gordon looked terrible. A large white bandage was wrapped around his head making his normally unruly hair even more so as the face, almost as white as the bandage, was marred by various bumps and red spots.

Bug bites Alan knew right away and his guilt soared.

"Gordo?" he whispered, his blue eyes wide as he just stared, transfixed by the damage.

As if aware of the scrutiny, the fourteen-year-old mumbled incoherently and turned his head away.

------

"_Gordo?"_

A familiar voice, soft and anguished sounding filtered through Virgil's slowly resurfacing consciousness. He frowned, his brow wrinkled slightly as he tried to place the voice but his head still hurt and it was hard to think through a mind wrapped in cotton. Everything was slow and numb but still he fought to wake up.

------

"What the hell are you doing here?" Scott's low growl startled Alan and he whipped around, paling and stepping back when he saw the black look on his oldest brother's face. He'd seen his sibling upset before but nothing like this. Scott was furious. And for the first time in his young life, Alan Tracy was actually afraid of one of his brothers.

"I-I," he stammered, his mouth dry, the words sticking somewhere in the back of his throat.

Scott stalked towards him, his size suddenly ominous as the child continued to back away until he couldn't move any further. "You aren't supposed to be here. You were told to go to the hotel with John. That implied you stay there! Instead I get a call from him saying you'd taken off!" Scott's hard gaze captured him and if the man hadn't been standing between him and the door, Alan would have bolted. He scowled as he gave the kid a quick once over. "And where exactly are your coat and shoes?"

Alan swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes as he finally found his voice, "I had to see Gordo, I just had to!" His voice cracked as he fought to explain. "I needed-"

"You _needed_," Scott bit out, his arms now crossed across his muscular chest as he continued to glare down at his youngest sibling, "to stay put. John would have brought you over later. You are nine years old, Alan. That's way too old to be pulling this kind of crap. I can't afford to have to be worrying about you too. Did you even think what might happen if Dad, Virgil or Gordon woke up and I wasn't here because I was off looking for you?"

Guilt seared. No, actually he hadn't. He looked between Virgil and Gordon, a tear making its way past his defence. He rubbed impatiently at his face. "I'm s-sorry!" he stammered.

------

"_I'm s-sorry!"_

Alan. It was Alan Virgil was hearing. And the kid sounded terrible. Virgil pushed himself harder to wake up. Something was wrong with his brother and he needed to find out what.

------

"Sorry isn't good enough, Alan. Not this time. Of all the stupid stunts you've ever pulled, this has to be the stupidest. What if something had happened to you, Alan, how do you think John would have felt? It was his job to keep an eye on you!"

Alan looked down at his bare feet. He was the worst brother of all. "I'm sorry," he whispered again suddenly feeling more alone then even when he'd been on the plane. At least then no one was angry with him, and especially not Scott.

Scott huffed a loud exhale but Alan refused to look up. He couldn't handle seeing the anger and disappointment any longer. He sucked at being a Tracy. Tracy's were big, brave and always knew what to do. Well it seemed that no matter what he thought of doing, it just wasn't the right thing. Shifting slightly so he could catch a peek at Gordon's sleeping face, each  
little red mark sang of yet another failure. Virgil had told Alan that they were relying on Alan and that Alan had to be brave for them and he'd let them all down.

Misery pressed down on his thin shoulders and the child hardly heard his brother's next words. "I'm sorry, Alan, I don't have a choice. I'm sending you back to the island. John will take you when he gets here."

Cold horror spread through his body. "No," he gasped, shaking his head and daring to look back up at his oldest brother. "No, Scotty, please..."

But Scott's face had hardened with resolve now. "This isn't up for discussion, Alan. Not this time."

"I'll be good, I will," Alan's voice broke with desperation as he continued to get more and more upset. "I'll listen to John. To you. I'll do anything you tell me, but please, please don't send me away! _Please!_"

"Alan…"

----

"_Alan…"_

The voice was familiar, distorted like an elastic band so stretched out of shape it was almost unrecognizable but its warning tone was the final shove the sixteen-year-old needed. Something protective flared. It was instinctive – 100% Tracy. The older boys looked out for the younger, no questions asked.

------

"No, Scott!" the little boy grabbed his brother's arm, his body trembling hard. "No!"

"Hey," a rough sounding voice barked, both Alan and Scott's head whipped towards it. Muted hazel eyes glared at Scott, through half lidded eyes, exhaustion weighing each word, "leave my little brother alone."

Virgil was awake. And he looked pissed.

tbc


	11. A new Ally

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 11**

"Virgil!" Scott ignored his younger brother's tone. He was just too damn pleased that the kid was conscious, finally, to give a rat's ass what Virgil said to him right now. In two strides he was leaning over his brother's bed, his face wide in a shit-eating grin. "Damn, kid, you have no idea how good it is to see you awake!"

Virgil, though, didn't seem quite as happy. He frowned, his dark brown eyes appraising Scott warily, "_Scott?_ _You're_ the one yelling at Alan?"

_Alan? _Scott grimaced.

Glancing across at his white-faced youngest brother, Scott sighed. Oh yeah, Alan… He felt horrible for telling the youngster he was going home but Scott was just so overwhelmed right now, sending Alan away seemed the best thing to do. _And,_ he tried to tell himself, _it's the best thing for Alan. He can get some rest. The doctor said he needs rest._

It had scared Scott more than he wanted to admit when John told him the little blond was missing. The core of his anger had been fired by the terror that they were wrong and that Alan wasn't on his way to the hospital but that something else had happened to him. And then seeing the kid here in Gordon and Virgil's room, coatless, shoeless but perfectly fine – this time – had solidified his earlier decision that Alan needed to go home.

But the lingering fear on the little boy's face as he avoided Scott's eyes and edged closer to Virgil tore at something inside the young pilot. He'd handled this badly… Alan should never be afraid of him. None of his brothers should. However, he couldn't change his mind now. Not this time.

When Scott didn't answer quick enough Virgil turned to Alan, wincing as he held out one hand in an invitation to the little boy. Alan immediately clasped it like a lifeline. "Y'okay, Sprout?"

Scott opened his mouth to answer but a plaintive wail cut him off.

"He wants to send me away!" Alan immediately took advantage of his potential ally and burst out. "He's going to make John take me home but I don't want to go home, I want to stay here with you and Gordo and Daddy! I have to, Virgil, I just have to!"

"Al," Scott warned again not wanting to upset Virgil.

"No!" Alan ignored him, really starting to wind up, "I promised I'll be good! I won't run away. I won't make any noise, I won't- Virgil don't let him send me away, please!"

"Whoa, whoa," Virgil squeezed the little boy's hand, "calm down, Sprout. Calm down. It's okay. Everything is okay."

"But it's not," Alan sniffled, "I have'ta stay."

"Shhh…" the young artist shushed softly, "c'mon, Al, don't do this. Don't cry… take deep breaths, kiddo. Nice and deep. That's it… calm down… 'c'mon, bro…"

Scott sighed, heart-weary and tired. He leaned against the wall listening as Virgil tried to comfort the nine-year-old. A finger of jealousy nagged as Alan responded, slowly starting to calm down as he took exaggerated breaths and tried to do what Virgil was asking. That was supposed to be his place. He was supposed to be the one to make the kid feel better. Man, this was all so messed up.

"Scott?" Virgil's voice betrayed his exhaustion, a reminder that only a few hours earlier the kid had been in surgery as he looked up at Scott. His older brother met his worried gaze. "Is this true? Are you sending Alan home?"

"I don't have a choice," Scott tried to explain. "You, Dad, Gordon," he cast a glance at the other bed where Gordon was somehow still sleeping through all this, "you're all pretty banged up and I need John here, but this isn't the right place for Alan to be. He needs to rest too. Just not here."

"Dad? Gordon?" Virgil's eyes widened, "What's wrong with them?" he stifled a groan as he moved too quickly suddenly seeming to remember where he was. "What's wrong with me? Did the plane crash?"

"Dad's down the hall. He's pretty banged up but doc's say he'll be fine in time. Gordon's got the monster of a concussion but he's regained consciousness a couple of times and is actually starting to make some sense and you… you're recovering from surgery. A rib messed you up good, Virg – and you have a concussion too. Not as bad as Gordon's, thank God, but bad enough. Oh and yeah, the plane did crash."

Scott tried to keep from overwhelming the kid too much but as Virgil just stared blankly at him for a long moment, then whispered, "Wow," he wasn't so sure he succeeded.

His gaze shifted back to Alan as he gave Virgil some time to process and noticed, for the first time, that his thin frame was trembling as he continued to cling to Virgil, his body half draped over the side rail in what had to be a painful contortion. Even as he moved to lower the railing to give the little boy easier access, Scott frowned. How the heck hadn't he noticed before?

_Geez_, _Tracy_, he scolded as he shrugged out of his light jacket and draped it over the little boy's shoulders startling the kid, _you're really starting to slip here. _

Alan stared at him, his blue eyes vibrant and searching, and for a moment Scott thought his brother was going to refuse the jacket but then the child softly murmured, "Thank you, Scott," and turned away again. He couldn't help but notice how the kid hunched in on himself as if expecting Scott to lay into him again.

_I'm sorry, kiddo… _

Scott wanted to explain that his decision to send Alan home wasn't because Scott didn't want him here – good God nothing could be further from the truth – but because _Scott_ needed him to be safe. Alan was the only family member he had any control over and he'd be damned if he let anything else happen to the kid on his watch. But as the young man opened his mouth to speak Gordon suddenly yelled out, "Watch the shark! He's got a gun!"

And John burst in through the door.

------

John had not idea what to expect when he got to the hospital. He was hoping Alan was there. In fact he was counting on it and refused to think that his little brother wouldn't be, so when he rushed into his brothers' room and saw not only Alan but also that Virgil and seemingly Gordon were awake, he couldn't help but grin.

Even if the grin faltered a bit as soon as he realized he'd interrupted something.

"Okay," he started slowly as both Scott and Alan hurried towards Gordon, "What'd I miss?" he addressed Virgil, pleased beyond words to see murky dark eyes turn his way.

"Not as much as I have," the sixteen-year-old sighed.

He turned his head towards Gordon when the red-head demanded, loudly to Scott to, "Get me a unicorn 'cause I want to go fishing!"

"He's got fish on the brain," Virgil added, smiling as John rolled his eyes and sat down in the vacant visitors chair next to his bed.

"Well at least he's got something… So while those two fuss over fish-face, you wanna tell me how _you're_ doing?" John appraised his younger sibling carefully, all the time aware of his brothers behind him. He wanted to check on Gordon too but didn't want Virgil to be left alone, so he'd wait his turn.

Typical Tracy, Virgil ignored the inquiry and asked his own question instead. "Is Scott crazy?" he'd lowered his voice and hopefully Scott was too preoccupied with finding that damn unicorn, as Gordon kept insisting, to be paying too much attention.

Although a softly growled, "I heard that," even as Scott told Alan to stop encouraging Gordon when Alan asked what color pony the fourteen-year-old wanted, made John wince.

"Ah, that depends…"

"He's sending Alan home?"

"Oh, that," John sat back heavily in his chair, the onset of a headache thumming lightly behind his eyes, "So you heard."

"Yeah, kinda." Virgil closed his eyes. John reached out and gently rubbed his thumb over his brother's arm. The poor kid was exhausted.

"Get some sleep, Virg," John ordered softly, "this can keep."

Stubbornly, geez now he knew where Alan got it, Virgil forced his eyes back open. "No, John. It can't. Not if Alan's gone when I wake up. Scott's making a mistake! Alan needs to be here, with us!"

John knew Scott was listening and was surprised that their oldest brother didn't interject right away but he'd backed off Gordon a bit, giving Alan a chance to get closer. The problem was John agreed with Virgil but he also saw Scott's point as well. And his own. Alan had scared the crap out of him when he'd just taken off like that so John couldn't deny that knowing Alan was safely ensconced back on the island would help settle his nerves.

And, another Tracy rule, brothers backed their brothers up. Too bad, it was starting to feel a bit like a divided house with him and Scott on one side and Virgil and Alan on the other. Especially when John found himself defending Scott's decision, "Virgil, it's for the best. Alan's hurt too- not badly," he quickly supplied when he saw the brown haired teen's face pale, "just some bruising and stuff but he needs to rest. And he can't do that here if he's spending all his time going from bed to bed. You know the Sprout, there is just no way he's going to stay back in the hotel and take care of himself. Hell, he took off this morning hell-bent for leather to see Gordon!"

Virgil was watching Alan now as the little boy went along with Gordon's concussed delusion and had the red-haired kid convinced, much to the chagrin of Scott, that they were indeed fishing and Gordon had indeed landed a whopper.

It didn't make it any easier to justify sending Alan away when it was so obvious how great the kid would be at helping them fight off the hospital doldrums during the early days of convalescence. The kid just had this way of lighting up a whole room, kinda like the way their mother had in John's memories of her…

"Did he say why?" the teen turned back to his older brother. When John gave him an odd look, not understanding what he was asking, Virgil elaborated, "Alan. When he took off, did he say why he needed to see Gordo so badly?"

John chewed his lip for a moment. Snippets of Alan's earlier upset coming back to him. "Not really… something about-" he paused and looked at Virgil in speculation. "Something about a promise he made to you."

"Me?" Now Virgil looked surprised. "A promise he made to me?" his brow furrowed in concentration, then he shook his head, wincing as he did, "I don't remember anything…"

"Maybe it was while you guys were still on the plane?" John offered, "Maybe before you got rescued?"

Virgil sighed glumly, his gaze now troubled, "I don't remember, Johnny. I don't remember anything after the crash. The last thing I remember is dropping Scott off."

"That's probably a good thing, kiddo," John decided hoping it would make Virgil's recovery a bit easier on him. Bad enough Alan remembered.

"I don't know," Virgil quietly countered, "Not if Alan promised me something and now he's running away and getting sent home because of it."

_Okay_, John had to admit, _Virgil has a point._

And then a nurse came in, saw Virgil was awake, heard Gordon ordering Alan to hurry up and put more bait on his line, counted three extra Tracys in the room, then ordered them all out until the doctor had a chance to check the invalids out.

Virgil managed to snag Scott's shirt in passing and John heard him whisper fervently, "Don't you dare send Alan away!"

Scott looked like he was going to argue but then just tightened his jaw, gave a curt nod and ushered his brothers out of the room.

_Yippee,_ thought the blond young scholar sarcastically as he dropped a hand loosely on Alan's shoulder and guided him down the hallway with Scott bringing up the rear, _isn't this just going to be a fun day… And_, he winced as his younger brother's feet padded quietly along the floor, _Alan needs shoes. _

"C'mon," Scott ordered gruffly, "let's check on Dad."

tbc


	12. Quiet Conversations

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 12**

"These suck," Alan grumbled as he slowly shuffled along in a pair of baby blue soft hospital slippers. The brothers had made a quick stop at the gift shop for the slippers and a housecoat for the youngest Tracy. Neither made much of a fashion statement but it would have to do until they got him back to the hotel. "They make me look like a dweeb!"

"Oh yeah," John snorted softly, "like going around in bare feet made you look so much cooler? Kid, you are so far from cool on a good day," he teased, "you'd need a bus to get back."

"I'm not talking about a freezer kinda cool, _John_," Alan emphasized his older brother's name and rolled his eyes. John was scary smart but sometimes he just didn't get it. "I mean cool like superhero cool."

"If _someone_ hadn't taken off without his sneakers and coat we wouldn't be having this conversation at all to begin with," Scott interrupted making Alan stiffen.

He used to think Scott was cool. Now he wasn't sure what to think anymore. His whole world had been turned upside down with the crash and Alan felt like he was struggling not to fall off it.

"Hey, John," he ignored Scott as they waited for the elevator that would take them to the floor their father was on. "What do you want for your birthday?"

The older blond seemed startled by the question and Alan was genuinely surprised, "Did you think we'd forget or something?"

"Well no," his brother admitted sheepishly, "But I just hadn't given it much thought, you know?"

Alan didn't actually. Birthdays were a big thing.

"That _is_ a good question," Scott put in as he followed them down the hallway. Alan hoped John knew where their father's room was because he had no idea and was just kinda walking along. "What do you want?"

"Seriously?" John frowned and then something akin to sadness flickered across his expressive face. "I'd just love for everyone to be home by then. That'd be the best present I could get."

Alan stopped mid-step. "What do you mean _home by then_?" A new fear gripped the nine-year-old. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Al," Scott crouched down eye level, his dark brown eyes searching his face. He spoke cautiously, "You do understand just how badly hurt Dad and the boys are, don't you?"

"Scott," John's voice held a warning note and Alan looked from one brother to the next – they were hiding something from him. Then he frowned, actually no he had no idea how badly anyone was hurt because he hadn't been told. Sure Gordon wasn't making any sense, Virgil had had an operation and their Dad wasn't awake yet but – really, Alan had no idea what that all meant except that it scared him. He had been figuring that they'd be kept in the hospital for a couple of days and then sent home. But now – he shivered suddenly missing the warmth of Scott's reclaimed jacket – now he wasn't so sure.

"He needs to know," Scott persisted. "Especially before he sees Dad."

Alan watched as Scott and John locked gazes. Neither spoke. Finally John sighed and closed his eyes for a moment – whatever was decided, Scott had won.

"Allie." The use of the childhood pet name sent goosebumps raising over his skin and his heart rate picking up. None of his brother's ever called him that anymore except when they – or he – was really upset. Warning bells went off. "Dad? Gordon? Virgil? They won't be able to leave the hospital for a while. Gordo's hurt his head pretty bad-"

"And his nose," Alan put in quietly. He knew that his brother's nose had been broken and the bug bites – he shivered again.

"Well his nose isn't really a problem," Scott reassured him, "his head injury is what'll keep him here. Now hopefully it won't be for very long but…" the pilot shrugged, "we will have to wait and see. The same with Virgil. You know he had an operation because one of his broken ribs hurt his insides and the doctors had to fix him up so he's going to need some time to get better."

Alan paled. That didn't sound good at all.

"But Dad," Scott's voice took on a strange tone, "well Dad is pretty badly busted up, kiddo, that crash did a real number on him… so you need to be ready to see him. I know its going to be scary but I don't want you to freak out, okay?"

The little boy gave a shaky nod. He'd try.

"Dad's face is pretty bruised up and he's got this tube coming from his mouth to help him breathe," Scott continued, "and there's a lot of machines and things in the room with him, helping him… He's still unconscious and won't be able to talk to you, Al, but you can still talk to him and I know it'll make him feel better."

John shifted and put a hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott glanced at him and then stood up. He looked at Alan. "So you ready to go see Dad?" He held out his hand to Alan and after a brief hesitation the young blond took it and let himself be led towards a room at the end of the hall.

It was time to see his Dad. And hopefully finish convincing Scott not to send him home.

------

Gordon really hated being poked and prodded so when he bolted out of sleep to a doctor leaning over him, he gave a little squeak, jerked back and waited for his brain to turn to liquid and run out of his ears. God, his head hurt.

"Well, hello," the doctor, unfazed by his greeting, grinned cheerfully, "you awake this time or just dropping in for a moment?" The man had a blinding shock of red hair and Gordon couldn't help but blink. Was he still dreaming? Man, he'd been having some pretty wild dreams just before he awoke, something about going fishing with a unicorn and – he frowned – Alan had been there?

Weird.

Ignoring the doctor for now, Gordon resettled against the bed with a groan deciding he must have really hit his head hard. What happened anyway? When he searched for an answer his poor mind came up with nothing except 'ow'.

"You were in a plane crash," the annoyingly cheerful doctor supplied. Gordon must have wondered aloud. "But don't worry," he continued before Gordon could fully process that, "your family is fine. A bit banged up like you but definitely on this side of Heaven."

"Oh." That pretty much summed up what Gordon could come up with. He was relieved to hear everyone was okay but bothered by the fact that he'd been in an accident that he couldn't remember anything about – again, his mind actually hurt when he tried to recall anything about it – and that none of his family was here.

"Oh? Is that the best you could come up with?" He recognized the tired sounding voice from his left and felt himself relax. Virgil.

Gordon slowly turned to look at his brother, growling at the doctor when he tried to check his eyes.

"What no unicorns?" Virgil looked like shit but the grin on his face was contagious and the younger teen found himself carefully trying to mirror it. He thought it came off more as a grimace though.

"Unicorns?" How'd Virgil know he'd been dreaming about unicorns?

"And fishing," his brother deadpanned.

And fishing? Now Gordon was starting to get freaked out. His brother must have realized – the heart monitor starting to blip blip just a little faster a dead give away – and rushed to explain.

"You were talking in your sleep. Loudly."

Gordon's brows beetled. "I don't talk in my sleep…"

"Okay," Virgil agreed easily and that alone sent alarm bells going off.

"Do I?" he asked, not so sure anymore.

"Depends whether or not you were sleeping I suppose," Virgil smirked. "If you weren't then I think Dr. Avery there has something else to worry about."

Dr. Avery? The man appeared, red haired and a bright smile, in Gordon's line of vision again. This time the young Tracy let him finish his examination, taking the time to ponder things out. Which was really hard 'cause his brain still hurt and thinking too hard was actually painful. In the end, he just hoped this new embarrassing sleep talking was a one off thing. He could easily imagine all the ammunition that would give his family, Alan in particular.

"Oh man," he groaned out, closing his eyes and turning away from Virgil, the need for sleep tugging again. Being concussed sucked. "Please tell me that Alan wasn't here…"

"Not only was he here," Virgil was being very helpful. Not. "But he was a rather interactive part. At one point he had you convinced you'd landed a big fish."

Gordon winced. He remembered that part.

"But don't worry too much about it, Gordo," the sixteen-year-old consoled, his voice suddenly taking on a much more serious tone, "Alan has bigger worries then teasing you right now."

Instantly Gordon was wide awake again and looking at his brother in concern. The quick movement made his stomach roll and he swallowed hard to keep the bile down. "Why?" he demanded, "What's wrong?"

Virgil was grim-faced. "Scott," he said, "He wants to send Alan home."

------

John went in to see their father first and Alan had to wait outside with Scott. He didn't understand why he couldn't go right in since he was allowed in brothers' room along with John _and _Scott, but there seemed to be some stupid different rule on this floor. So while he didn't like it, he couldn't do much about it. Just like everything else that was happening.

Alan tried to talk to Scott but his older brother was too tense and paced the small stretch of corridor outside the room so after a couple of hard looks, the little boy gave up and just sat on the floor, his legs folded up underneath him and waited for his turn. He was tired and his bruised body throbbed with every breath but he kept quiet, determined not to draw any more attention to himself than necessary. Last thing he wanted was for Scott to decide he was even more trouble and put him on a plane as soon as John finished visiting.

After what felt like forever, the door beside him opened and a pale faced John peeked out. His eyes were red-rimmed and immediately Alan was on his feet. "Is it my turn?"

"Is everything okay?" he was ignored as Scott pressed past him and glanced into the room.

John cleared his throat. "Yeah," his voice sounded odd, "it was just a bit harder than I was expecting. You know?"

Scott gave a curt nod. Guess he did, Alan surmised although he was too eager to see his father to pay either of his brothers much attention.

He started to press past John when Scott snagged his arm. "Alan-" he started.

Alan yanked his arm away. "No!" he argued, just knowing Scott was going to try to stop him from seeing their father. "It's my turn. You said I could go in after John and John's finished so it's my turn." He steeled his jaw and glared at his oldest sibling, "He's my father too!"

Scott seemed taken aback by the outburst but before he could say anything John was speaking, "You're right. C'mon, kiddo, I'll come with you."

Alan briefly wondered why all of the sudden the rules changed and John could go with him but he couldn't go in with John, but then his older brother was ushering him into their father's room and he forgot to ask because, there on a bed in front of him, was his father.

Forgetting that the man couldn't hear him, the little boy called out, "Dad!" and ran towards the bed.

------

"Scott is wrong," Gordon waited until Dr. Avery and the nurse had left the room to talk to Virgil. "Alan needs to be here with us. At least if he's here we can keep an eye on him. Brains and Kyrano won't know what to do with him. Sure they'll feed and water him and make sure he brushes his teeth and goes to bed, but they ain't us. He needs to be here."

"You're preaching to the choir, bro," Virgil agreed, his dark brown eyes watching Gordon intensely. "Problem is we aren't in much shape to change Scott's mind if that's what he's set on."

Gordon had to agree as he closed his eyes again, let out a heavy sigh and idly scratched at his throat. His head hurt, his nose hurt – and geez, a broken nose? How'd that happen? – his whole body felt like he'd been thrown under a bus. And, just to add insult to injury, his face and chest itched like crazy.

"Stop scratching," Virgil chastised.

The red head scowled but dropped his hand. The nurse was coming back with some cream he'd been promised. He just hoped she wasn't too long.

"This sucks." He decided and heard a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up… So how are you feeling anyway?"

"Like I was in a plane crash?" Gordon dead-panned, then asked, "And you?"

"Pretty much the same…"

"Well I suppose things could be worse," the red-head finally decided.

"Oh yeah, and how's that?"

"We could be Scott."

------

Alan forgot John was even in the room as he stared at his father. His blue eyes, large in his pale face, slowly took in the vent and all the other equipment in the room and he started to nod. This was good. If this stuff was helping his father get better then it was definitely good. He was suddenly and strangely overcome with relief that his father was finally getting help. Something Alan hadn't been able to give him on the plane.

Reaching out, Alan touched one of his father's hands. "Hey, Daddy," he whispered. "It's okay… see… all this stuff. It's going to fix you up in no time." A soft sound behind him reminded him John was here and he turned and gave his brother a bright smile. "He's going to be just fine, Johnny," he beamed, "I just know it." And then settled into the chair next to his father's bed and started to tell him about fishing with Gordon just knowing the man would want to know.

Behind him the door clicked softly and John left them alone.

TBC


	13. New Perspectives

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 13**

"Where's Scott?"

"And Alan?"

Poor John was under a double assault as soon as he opened the door into his younger brothers' hospital room. Leaving Scott and Alan upstairs, he'd come down to check on Virgil and Gordon, hoping the doctors would be finished by now. And they were.

The blond Tracy had been told by Dr. Avery that both teens were doing well but needed lots of rest and to be kept calm especially during the next couple of days. However, as John let the door close behind him, he noticed his siblings were doing anything but resting or remaining calm.

"You guys are supposed to be resting," he remarked wryly as he stood between the two beds and tried not to roll his eyes at the unrelenting glares. "Fine," he conceded, "Al is still visiting with Dad and Scott is upstairs with him. Well not actually in the room," he added more to himself than to his brothers as he was worried about Scott's behavior. The oldest brother refused to go in to see their father and while John understood, well kinda – okay, not really – he also knew it would make Scott feel better if he could just look at things like Alan did.

"Is Dad awake?" Virgil immediately asked, hopefully.

"No, unfortunately," John hated the way his brothers' faces dropped, "but he _is_ supposed to be getting weaned off the vent today, and that's good."

Virgil didn't look convinced and John hated to admit it, but he knew how the kid felt.

"How can we rest," Gordon blurted out, and thank God the kid was sounding more and more coherent with each word even if he looked on the verge of passing out. Concerned, John moved closer to his bed. "With Scott getting ready to rip our family apart!"

John sighed heavily. Yup he could feel a headache coming on already. Gordon, melodrama at its best.

"Scott is not ripping anything apart," he tried to be the voice of reason and sought out Virgil for backup but the dark haired teen must have hit his head harder than anyone thought 'cause he added,

"Yeah, and if he thinks sending Al away is the best thing for anyone then I'm afraid to say it but I think our eldest brother dearest has cracked. This is nuts!"

"Guys! Guys!" John tried to placate, "Please… you know Scott would never do anything unless he really thought it was for the best-"

"Well this ain't!"

"It's insane!"

"Nuts!"

John's gaze ping-ponged between his brothers, he was no longer even sure who was saying what anymore; not that it really mattered since they were just sounding off each other anyways.

"Off his rocker!"

"Way on the other side of the cuckoo's nest!"

Suddenly being accidentally kicked in the jewels by Alan was turning out to be the highlight of this adventure…

------

Scott couldn't wait outside the room any longer. He already felt horrible for leaving Alan alone with their father for this long but the young pilot was really finding it hard to see the Great Jeff Tracy on life-support – even if he really didn't need it.

However, when push came to shove big brother trumped son and Scott pushed away his own feelings, steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. He couldn't be there for himself but he sure as hell could be there for Alan.

Slipping quietly into the room he saw that Alan was perched on the edge of a very uncomfortable looking chair, one small hand resting easily on their father's outstretched arm, the other propping himself up so he didn't fall flat on his face as he leaned forward. The boy was talking animatedly and as Scott listened he couldn't help the small smile the loosened his face. Alan was complaining to their father about the housecoat and slippers.

"I wouldn't mind so much, you know," Alan prattled on, "but it's baby blue. Not Navy blue or even ocean blue but it's powder blue!" Scott could almost see the scowl on the child's face as he continued, "I think they did it on purpose. Sure, I didn't see any other color there but that didn't mean that Scott didn't sucker one of those nurses into hiding all the cool stuff before we got there. You know he would!"

Scott shook his head fondly. That was more something Gordon would do but he didn't bother to correct the little blond, however when Alan spoke again the words cut right through his heart.

"Please wake up, Daddy," Alan sniffed quietly. "I'm scared."

------

"And how fair would that even be to Brains-"

"Or Kyrano-"

"They got stuff-"

"Okay. Enough!" John snapped. He was at the end of his tether, good God, when was this ever going to end? His sharp tone shut his brothers up and they blinked at him in exhausted shock. "Just…" he softened his resolve and sighed. "Look guys, if I promise to talk to Scott would you just," he rubbed a hand across his face, they weren't the only ones who desperately needed some down time, "get some rest? Lie down, close your eyes, try to pretend you're like, I don't know, in a hospital trying to recover or something?"

Virgil frowned –

Gordon opened his mouth to say something –

"_Please?"_

Vigil huffed, "Fine."

Gordon scowled. "Whatever."

And John seriously considered using a piece of paper to slit his wrists.

God, sometimes family. Just. Sucked.

------

Scott moved towards his father's bed. Alan hadn't said anything in a few minutes but the silent shaking of the thin shoulders told the pilot everything he needed to know – his little brother was crying.

_Oh, Al…_

He wanted to say something to make the kid feel better, he needed to but he had no idea what. Things had been so awkward and angry between them and Scott was afraid of making things worse. Of being rejected. And then his stricken gaze settled on his father's face from behind his brother and Scott felt as if all air had been sucked out of the room.

His vision tunneled until all he could see was the ventilator protruding from his father's badly bruised face. Scott didn't even realize he was gasping heavily until a soft hand shook his arm hard.

"Scott? Scottie?" Alan's voice finally penetrated, the tremor in the youngster's words finally pulling his attention away.

"Al?" he managed to rasp out, his wide-eyed gaze struggling to settle on the nine-year-old in front of him.

"I was calling you and you weren't answering!" Alan sounded worried, his hand dropped from Scott's arm. The older man's reaction had obviously freaked him out. "What's wrong?"

Scott snorted, now there was a loaded question. But Alan's eyes were wet with tears yet he sounded so concerned about him, the young man couldn't not answer. He went with the truth. "I just don't like seeing Dad like this."

Alan pursed his lips and glanced behind him at their father again. When he turned back to Scott, the older Tracy was surprised by what his brother said. "I've seen worse."

For a second, he thought the kid was being a smart-ass and opened his mouth to tell him that this wasn't something to joke about but then his jaw snapped shut. Alan _had_ been conscious after the crash, of course he'd seen their father looking worse and suddenly Scott felt about two inches tall. He was bothered by a breathing tube and Jeff being unconscious but he didn't see him trapped in his seat, bleeding, dying, not like Alan had. And yet the kid was here sitting by their father's bedside, talking and comforting him while Scott freaked out.

"Oh, Sprout," he said softly, aching to take those memories away from his brother but oddly comforted by them as well. Alan helped put things into proper perspective at times. "I'm so sorry."

Alan studied him for a moment and then asked. "For what?" There was a carefulness in his tone that told Scott that how he answered this question was very important.

He held the little boy's vibrant gaze and then answered simply. "For not being there. For you being by yourself…"

"For you not finding me?" Alan offered, his words so low Scott almost didn't hear them. They held such naked hopefulness that he had to swallow a large lump in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes briefly then opened them and offered up a sad smile,

"Yeah, Alan," he admitted with all the sincerity of his soul, "for not finding you."

"Scott," the little boy pressed seriously, "please don't send me away… I can help. I _need_ to help."

"Alan," and of course, all roads with Alan led back to this. Tiredly, he tried to explain again. "I need you to be safe. The island is the best place for you right now."

"But I am safe," the blond persisted. "My whole family is here. And," he continued before Scott could remind him that three of their family were in no position to protect him from anything, "I don't always need to be looked after. Sometimes I can help doing the looking after too. Virgil asked me to be brave and told me they needed my help – please, Scott, let me help, _please._"

Scott chewed his lip for a few moments as he shifted his gaze back to his father and for the first time he didn't feel like he was being suffocated. Did his color look a bit better?

Then he turned back to his youngest brother and gave a brief nod of his head…

"Okay, Alan," he hoped he wasn't making a big mistake, "you can stay." And this time when he found it difficult to breath it was because of the tight grip Alan had on him as the child threw his arms around Scott's waist and hugged tight.

Scott wrapped his own arms around his brother and hugged back careful of the badly bruised little body and for the first time since finding out about the crash, started thinking things just might turn out all right.

TBC


	14. Venting

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 14**

"Do you have any idea what they put me through?" A very flustered John met Scott and Alan in the halfway outside their brothers' room. "I was tag-teamed! From their hospital beds!"

Scott couldn't help but grin, "You don't mean Virgil and Gordon?"

"Oh I most certainly do!" the blond young man was animated. "And it's all your fault!"

"Me?" the older pilot frowned. "What'd I do?"

John looked pointedly at Alan and Scott grimaced. Ah, okay. Now he got it.

"So to shut them up, I had to promise I'd talk to you about not sending the Sprout home so now I'm talking to you." Scott held up his hand to stop John but the younger man was too wound up and continued to talk over him. "Bottom line, Alan needs to be here with us. Yeah, yeah, I know Brains and Kyrano love the kid too but they aren't us and, if for no other reason, _we_ need him. Who else is going to keep Gordon occupied without going insane? Who else isn't going to mind being Virg's running boy once the kid is feeling well enough to be demanding? And he's going to want new drawing stuff, you know… And who else-"

"John."

"-is Dad going to want to see once he wakes up and finds out Virgil and Gordon are still here?"

"Johnny-"

"I don't care if you think you're all that and a bag of chips right now, but I think Alan should stay and I swear to God-"

Trying to keep from laughing as John wound himself up so tight he'd be taking off at any moment, Scott cocked an eyebrow and let his brother finish.

"-if you try to send him home, I'll – I'll handcuff myself to him!" John's face was red and he was breathing hard.

"Are you finished yet?" Scott asked mildly. Beside him, Alan had a hand over his mouth trying not to giggle.

John took serious consideration of the question and then nodded. "Yeah," he decided. "I think so."

"Okay, well since you've made such a compelling argument, fine, Al can stay."

John blinked, stunned. "What?"

"You heard me." Now Scott was grinning even as he shoved Alan behind him to keep the kid from giving the game away. "Alan can stay."

"Really?" John blinked again and then scowled. "What gives? You never just give in to anyone… and that wasn't even one of my more compelling arguments."

"John, you're my brother and I love you but there are just some things I need to keep to myself." Scott managed to keep his face dead serious and then clapped John on the shoulder and added, as he walked past the younger man and headed into the room, "Just deal with it." And Alan, grinning from ear to ear, followed, leaving poor John open mouthed and stunned in the hallway.

Watching the door shut, the blond decided he needed coffee and an aspirin. Right now.

----

Alan was on cloud nine. Scott was letting him stay and both his brothers and his father were getting better. The kid couldn't ask for anything else. Although now that he was sitting quietly between Gordon and Virgil's beds watching over them while they slept and Scott was outside talking to their doctor, he just wished he wasn't so tired… Exhausted actually and now that he was thinking about it, he really hurt.

Trying hard to keep his eyes open Alan slumped over uncomfortably, one arm propped on the side of Gordon's bed to keep his head up. He wanted to go back to the hotel to sleep but didn't want to leave, terrified that something might happen if he did.

"Hey," John called quietly from behind him and his older blond brother came into the room with a large coffee in one hand and a steaming cup of something else in the other. Alan's nose crinkled, it smell like… "Got'cha a hot chocolate." It was.

Beaming Alan stood up and met his brother halfway across the room, gratefully taking the drink and slowly sipping on it. It tasted awesome.

"Careful," his brother cautioned, "hot."

Alan rolled his eyes. Well, duh, kinda why they called it 'hot' chocolate, he snickered and then shook his head when John gave him an odd look.

"So, I was thinking," John leaned against Gordon's bed and watched Alan as the little boy sat back down. "Maybe, me and you could go on a supply run."

A supply run? Alan continued to sip on the drink.

"Well you need clothes, Virgil's going to want some artsy stuff for sure and Gordon's going to need something to keep himself busy too. Neither of them are going to do well just laying there, healing and as much as I'd just rather prefer them do that, they'll just drive us crazy. So I was thinking we should pick up some stuff."

Alan balanced the cup on his knee, one hand carefully wrapped around it so it didn't fall. "Well," he pursed his lips and thought about it, "Gordon's favorite video game was on the plane…" he frowned as he chewed on his lip, "but his second favorite is at home."

"And so are some of Virgil's charcoals and drawing pads," John added with a nod, suspiciously agreeable.

The nine-year-old glared at his older brother; it was pretty common knowledge that Alan hated shopping but he didn't like where this conversation was going either. "Scott said I could stay," he stated petulantly, positive that this was a trick to get him home and leave him there.

"Yes, he did." Another nod and then John leaned in conspiratorially, "and I'm promising my best promise ever that if you'll go with me for company, I won't leave you behind. We'll go home, get a good night's sleep, grab stuff for Dad and the guys and be back by tomorrow."

Alan eyed him critically. "Which best promise ever? Your best _big brother_ promise or your best _blonds stick together_ promise?" It was very important to him that he knew exactly which one 'cause one represented duty, which could mean sneaking off and leaving Alan behind if that is what John felt was his 'duty', and the other represented a friendship by connection, and friends don't leave friends behind.

John rolled his eyes. "The blonds promise. Geez, kiddo, you don't make it easy on a guy do you."

"Well not when you guys can be so tricky," Alan grumbled. It was hard being the youngest sometimes; even Gordon was years ahead of him when it came to pulling things off. Heck, Alan was still trying to get the whole virgin thing straightened out. He never did get a chance yet to ask Virgil why he lied to him about what a virgin was.

"Fair enough. All right then, I promise you my best blonds stick together promise that if you fly home with me to get some stuff, I won't leave you behind."

Alan still wasn't sure about this but taking one look at the dark circles under his brother's eyes and how pale John was looking, he decided he didn't want John flying home by himself either. So although his stomach turned in knots at the thought and his hot chocolate suddenly lost its appeal, the little boy nodded. "Okay, Johnny, I'll go with you."

------

"Go with you where?" Scott asked coming into the room in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"We're going home," John said turning around to pat Gordon gently on his shoulder when the red-head mumbled something and shifted on the bed. He waited to make sure his brother was settling back down before continuing. "Me and Alan. I've already rented a plane and logged a flight path."

Scott ruffled Alan's hair as he scooted between the younger boy and Virgil's bed, insanely pleased when his brother didn't jerk away. He glanced quickly between the two sleeping Tracys and when he was satisfied that neither of his brothers was in any distress - hospital drugs were a wonderful thing - he frowned, sure he was missing something, "But I said Alan could stay," he glanced at the kid, "you want to go now?" After all the harping everyone had done on him about Alan staying, he was going to leave? Were his brothers purposely trying to drive him nuts?

"No," Alan quickly shook his head, "we're going to get stuff and bring it back."

"Ah," comprehension lessoned the sudden tension tightening Scott's broad shoulders, "Okay, yeah, that makes sense." He looked a bit more closely at Alan, "Are you all right with this? Going with John?" The kid looked absolutely exhausted although he had to admit John didn't look any better. "Actually," he didn't give Alan time to answer, "that would be a good idea. If you guys leave now you can get a decent bit of sleep in your own beds and be back tomorrow. By then Dad might even be awake… and once you guys get back, I might even take off to get a couple of hours sleep." He laughed at the sheer shock he saw on his siblings' faces. "Don't look so surprised. Even I can't go on for ever."

"Could have fooled me," John muttered under his breath, then offered Scott an innocent look when Scott glared at him. "C'mon, Al," he started to usher his younger brother out of the chair, "say good-bye to the boys and then we'll take off."

"I'll call Brains and let him know you're coming." Scott stood back and watched as Alan fussed with the blankets, first on Virgil, then on Gordon and told them each that they'd better be there when he got back before leaning over and giving each brother a little kiss on the cheek, promising to be back with some good stuff. He felt something catch in his throat at the display. John was so right, they needed Alan here. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I'm sure Kyrano will make a feast."

"Yeah well I'm more tired than hungry but that'll change I'm sure, once I get in the kitchen." John said his own goodbyes then offered Scott a pointed look. "If anything changes, you call. And I mean _anything_."

"All right, all right," Scott chuckled as he followed his brothers into the hallway. He crouched down and gave Alan a hug, "See you tomorrow, Sprout."

Alan was sniffling when he pulled away but didn't say anything, just nodded and stood beside John as Scott gave John's shoulder a little shake. "And remember, flying works better with your eyes open, Blondie."

"Ha, ha, always the comedian," John snarked, and then grinned. "That only happened, once, I'll have you know." He deftly avoided a smack as he put an arm around Alan's shoulder and started to lead the youngest Tracy away from the room. "C'mon, kiddo," he said. "Time to go."

"Take the stairs at the end of the corridor," Scott called after them, "Security's kept it clear of the media."

John lifted his hand in acknowledgment and then they were gone, leaving Scott standing by himself in the middle of the hallway.

A tingle of worry made him shiver. He hoped Alan would be okay flying…

tbc


	15. Total Freak Out

_Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I really do appreciate your comments and hope to hear what you think of this chapter as well! Here is the next chapter and don't worry, the story is finally starting to wind down. _

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 15**

Scott was right about the stairs. Security kept them reporter free but getting from the hospital and into a taxi had been another thing. Apparently news had gotten out about the crash, no doubt thanks to that idiot paparazzi Garth Rawlings, and cameras were going off in their faces as reporters shouted out insensitive questions.

"_Mr. Tracy! Mr. Tracy! Just a word-"_

"_Can you confirm who was on the plane?"_

"_Who is that with you, Mr. Tracy? Is that Alan?"_

"_Is it true that your father died in the crash?"_

Alan froze like a deer in the headlights. Having been sheltered from this kind of thing most of his young life, the poor kid was over whelmed. John growled angrily at the insensitivity of the intruders and bodily pushed his little brother into the backseat of a cab. He pressed in next to him and yelled at the driver to _'Go! Go!_' and only started to relax when the car peeled away from the curb. God, he hated the press.

After telling the cabbie to take them to the same small airfield John had flown into, he settled back in his seat and closed his eyes, eager to catch a bit of shut eye before the flight. Beside him Alan fidgeted but was unusually quiet.

"Hey," he said without opening his eyes, "you okay?" He felt his brother shrug.

"Yeah…"

That didn't sound too convincing. Sighing, the blond let his head roll to the side towards Alan and opened his eyes. The nine-year-old was biting his lip as he stared out the side window at the rapidly passing scenery. Not much to see though, just concrete, cars and people; it made John realize just how much he missed the island and was looking forward to the flight back. It felt like forever since he'd actually been home. He'd been too busy with his studies the last two long weekends to visit, hence part of the reason why his family had met up in New York. And boy didn't that seem like a lifetime ago now too. "Alan?"

Alan turned towards him and John was taken aback by the vibrant fear he saw dancing across the boy's young face. Instantly he was straightening up and twisting towards his brother, concern chasing his tiredness away. "Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?"

The blond shrugged again. John cocked an eyebrow and waited Alan out. After a few long moments the child spoke. "I'm scared."

A warm smile loosened John's face. "Hey, is this about those stupid reporters? 'Cause if so, you don't have to be worried – they're just jerks and they don't know what they're talking about. Dad and the guys are fine and getting better by the minute." But Alan was shaking his head.

"S'not that," he admitted. His gaze dropped down and he sighed. "I dunno what it is really… I just feel scared."

John shifted closer and put an arm around his little brother's shoulders drawing the kid close, thankful Alan was sitting in the middle seat instead of right next to the window. "It's been a crazy couple of days," he admitted, "once we take off, why don't you try to get some sleep? I'm sure you'll feel much better once we get home."

Alan didn't look convinced but gave a little nod anyways. John gently tousled his hair earning a scowl which made him smile. "'Sides which, you know I won't let anything bad happen to you right?" He waited until his brother nodded again and then continued. "So try to relax, Al, there's nothing to be scared about, okay?"

"But-" the kid started and stopped.

"But what?"

"But what if this plane crashes too?"

_Oooh, so that's the real problem…_ John winced. He hadn't even thought about that. And not that he was worried about it happening, he just felt horrible that he hadn't considered if Alan was ready to fly so soon after the accident.

"I mean, it could happen again, couldn't it?" Worried blue eyes pierced him.

"Well, it could," John admitted slowly. He'd never been one to lie to his brothers. "But," he continued on giving Alan's body a little squeeze, "the chances of it happening to us are pretty slim. Jets don't crash very often as is, Sprout," he tried to assure his brother, "so the chances of it happening twice to our family are pretty slim."

"It could still happen though, couldn't it?" The kid repeated anxiously. "Right?"

"Alan…" John drew the little boy's name out not sure how to ease his brother's increasing agitation because even as statistically safe as they were, there was still always a chance. He frowned for a moment and then brightened. "How many times have you flown?"

Now it was Alan who frowned as his face puckered up in fierce concentration. John watched in amusement as the boy tried to figure it out. "How about we say lots of time, okay?" He decided to speed this along.

"Okay, lots of time," Alan spun it around and offered it back to him.

"And how many times have you crashed?"

Alan looked at him like he was dumb. "Once."

"So if you've flown lots of times, let's just work it out based on an average of once a week since you've been born, that's at least 468 times over the last nine years and you've crashed only once… I think it is very safe to say that nothing bad is going to happen this time. What do you think?" He was hoping the actual numbers might help settle Alan's fears.

"Well… I suppose," the kid was still hesitant but John could see him mulling it over and then finally Alan gave an appeasing nod. "Okay."

"Okay," John beamed, "So we're good to go?"

Alan returned it, his smile a little more shy. "Yeah, Johnny, we're good to go."

The older blond was quite pleased. That had gone rather smoothly, he thought to himself. However, he really should not have counted his victory so soon because as he and Alan walked towards the sleek jet Scott had arranged for them to fly home in, Alan got his first good look at the plane and he freaked out. Badly.

------

The closer Alan got to the airfield the more worried he became but it was a weird kind of worried. Logically, he knew that he was safe and that John was right, the chances of him being involved in a second plane crash were pretty slim but that didn't help keep his stomach from tying in knots or his heart from starting to pound.

Cold sweat stuck the housecoat to his body and he had to work hard to stay beside John when they got out of the cab and started the short walk through the terminal and towards where the jet was gleaming on the tarmac.

Suddenly the plane seemed to loom over him and Alan was once again back on Tracy Two waking up as the jet went down.

"NO!" he screamed, flinging himself backwards so hard, he stumbled.

His arms pin wheeled as he tried to keep his balance –

He heard John's voice yelling his name; saw his brother reaching for him but John wasn't quick enough and Alan hit the ground, hard, on his butt.

"_Alan!"_

The aircraft seemed to pulse and glower above him, threatening to crush – the sound of groaning metal as it warped and bent around him, deafened. He was suffocating! And then someone grabbed his arm.

Terrified beyond reason, Alan bit hard, the taste of copper, bitter.

The restraint was gone -

"_Sonnova-" _

- and so was Alan, moving quickly as he half crawled then stumbled to his feet taking off in a sprint away from the plane and into the fields.

"_Alan! ALAN!!"_

His brother's voice screeched but Alan was far too absorbed in fear and memory; he just kept running, his muscles burning, his slippers sliding on the dry grass –

And then something hit him hard from behind. Strong arms wrapped around him and he went down under a heavy weight. Hard.

His knees, his hands and then his head hit the packed dirt; the breath whooshed out of his lungs, prickly straw poked at his face…

The weight was immediately gone but Alan stayed down. His chest heaved, his body shook, hot tears burned a track down his dirty face. He had one fleeting moment of coherency when he was rolled onto his back and saw John leaning over him, yelling at him, red-faced and angry looking –

And then the darkness tugged at Alan and he let it pull him under.

------

The airport employee wanted to call an ambulance but John shook his head. Instead, he just gathered up his unconscious little brother and asked if there was somewhere quiet, like a First Aid room, where he could take Alan.

He gasped as Alan pressed against his injured arm and adjusted the kid as he followed the man back inside the terminal. His arm throbbed and bled reminding John he'd needed it looked at. Thankfully he'd had a tetanus shot last summer so some antibiotic gel and a bandage should be enough.

Shaking his head he lowered his brother onto the small cot in a brightly light room.

_I can't believe the little rat bit me,_ he mentally groused, _not bad enough I have his footprint on the family jewels but now teeth mark to match!_ But then he remembered how incoherently terrified Alan had been and his concern overrode his indignation.

He should have thought about this. One of them - either he or Scott - should have, and then they could have gotten someone to administer a sedative to Alan before they left and quite possibly avoided this.

The image of his traumatized brother reeling away from him and bolting across the tarmac and into the fields was going to haunt John for a long time. He'd never seen anyone that scared before and the fact that it was someone he loved, shook the young man up, badly.

Brushing a trembling hand through his blond hair, John crouched next to Alan and pulled out his phone. He waited as the other end was answered then started speaking. "Scott? We have a problem…"

Tbc


	16. The Final Awakening

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. I am sorry I have not had a chance to thank you all directly but I want to let you know how much I hear what you think.

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 16**

John cut through to the chase as soon as Scott answered his cell. "We have a little problem."

"John?" Scott was confused, then wary, "You don't sound like you're on a plane."

"That's because, genius, we're not."

A chill ran through Scott. "What kind of problem?"

"A not going home today kinda problem."

The Air Force pilot ground his teeth in frustration. As easy going as John usually was, he could still be down right ornery when it came to trying to get a straight answer out of him. "John," he growled.

"Alan freaked out," John snapped. "Badly. Bit me, took off across the airfield, I had to tackle the kid to bring him down and now he's out cold in the first aid room."

Scott blinked, in shock. "What? Is he alright?"

"Of course he's not! Are you even listening to me?" Scott winced. He couldn't remember ever hearing John sound so rattled, not even with the events of the past few days.

"Okay, okay," he placated moving out of Gordon and Virgil's room so he wouldn't wake them. "Did you call an ambulance?"

"No," John admitted, "Do you think I should?" The note of uncertainty in his normally self-assured younger brother made Scott wince again, but for a different reason.

"How long's he been out?" Scott asked instead of answering. He knew that if John thought for a minute that Alan needed a hospital, they'd already be on their way.

"Not long," the younger Tracy admitted and then he rushed out. "He's waking up – Alan? Hey Al? Scott, I gotta go, I'll call you back in a few minutes!" And then the line went dead before Scott could say anything else.

"Sonofa-" he hissed resisting the strong temptation to throw the phone at the wall, and then Blair Wanking was rushing down the hall.

"Mr. Tracy! Mr. Tracy! Your father is awake! He's awake!"

------

He couldn't breathe.

"_Mr. Tracy-"_

Something was in his throat.

"_Mr. Tracy!"_

He fought against it.

"_You have to calm down!"_

The words were muffled and made no sense.

"_Please!"_

His boys – where were his boys?

"_Dad?"_

And then, finally, a voice to ground him.

Scott.

------

Jeff was fighting the vent and as soon as Scott rushed into the room he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Dad?" He moved towards the bed and elbowed the nurse and doctor out of the way. He put both his hands on his father's face and spoke firmly. "Stop fighting. It's okay. You're okay but you have to stop fighting!"

Instantly the man stilled beneath his hands seeming to recognize Scott.

"Yeah, it's me," Scott assured his father, smiling in relief, "And you're in a hospital on a vent. The plane crashed but you're going to be okay. **Everyone**," he emphasized the word, "is going to be okay."

Tears burned his father's already ruddy cheeks and Scott felt his own eyes water. "I promise, Dad, everyone is okay. You just have to calm down."

"Mr. Tracy?" Scott felt Dr. Priestly move beside him, "My name is Jake Priestly and I've been taking care of you since you were brought in." Jeff's eyes moved from his son to the black man and then back to Scott again. Unperturbed, the doctor continued, "I need you to relax and then I'm going to see about removing this vent. Do you understand me?"

Scott felt his father's hand grip his wrist weakly and give it a squeeze. He nodded at the other man, "Yeah, he understands."

"Good," the doctor looked pleased. "That will make this go a lot more smoothly." He looked at Scott, "You can stay with him," then turned to the nurse and within moments he neatly snaked the vent and tubing from Jeff's lungs and replaced it with an oxygen mask. Jeff coughed into the mask and Scott glanced at Dr. Priestly worriedly. "Nothing to worry about," the man assured him and then smiled down at the senior Tracy again, "your throat is going to be sore for a couple of days so try to keep talking to a minimum and I'd like to keep this mask on until your stats have settled, then I'm sure a nasal canula will do just fine." He reached out and squeezed Jeff's shoulder. "And as your son said, you are doing well. I'll explain to you in more detail about what's happened the next time we talk but for now, I'd like you to just concentrate on breathing and getting some rest. Your lungs will be feeling a bit tight and tender right now but that's to be expected, however if the pain becomes worse, please have your son ring the buzzer and we'll get you fixed up. You don't need to be a hero here, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff managed a slight nod. Dr. Priestly checked the monitors again, seemed pleased with what he saw and quietly left the room, leaving Scott and his father alone.

"You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally awake," Scott admitted, his legs suddenly feeling weak as extreme relief washed over him. He was no longer in charge. His father, although bed-ridden, was conscious and just knowing that, lessoned the weight threatening to crush the young pilot to the ground. And then because he knew Jeff would want to know, Scott gave him an abridged version of what was going on with Gordon, Virgil and Alan, all the time hoping John would hurry up and call him back with an update.

------

The first thing Alan saw when he opened his eyes was John. His older brother's face was flushed and the kid felt a sliver of unease worm between his ribs, and then as he remembered, all the blood drained from his face and he scooted backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. His whole body was shaking and his eyes, wide and burning, traced the blood running down John's wrist up to the vicious bite on his brother's forearm.

The aircraft seemed to pulse and glower above him, threatening to crush – the sound of groaning metal as it warped and bent around him, deafened. He was suffocating! And then someone grabbed his arm.

_Terrified beyond reason, Alan bit hard, the taste of copper, bitter._

Alan's chest heaved and John shoved him forward over a trash can just as his stomach revolted. Puking miserably he barely he managed to sob out, "I'm s-sorry," before another vicious bout threatened to break him in half.

"Hey, hey," John's voice murmured next to his ear, the warmth of his breath making Alan shiver harder. "C'mon now, none of that – you're okay, Al."

Alan closed his eyes and leaned his head against John, desperate for his brother's body heat. He sniffled and pressed his cheek against the muscular chest, his ear next to John's breastbone. The steady thump- thump of the young scholar's heart through the thin t-shirt reassured, and the nine-year-old reached up to clutch at the material as he gasped. "I don't wanna fly no more, Johnny, I can't, Johnny, I just can't!"

"Alan…" John sounded like he was in pain but Alan refused to let go. Someone moved behind them and startled Alan pinched skin. His brother hissed but didn't push him away.

"And I'm sorry for biting you! Please don't hate me! I know I'm being just an awful big baby but I can't help it, I really, really can't!" Tears slurred his voice and Alan sniffed loudly, twisting his face enough to rub his running nose against his brother's shirt, angry and frustrated with himself for how he was acting. He wouldn't blame John if he never wanted anything to do with Alan again. It seemed all he did was hurt his brother.

"I'm not mad at you, okay?" John tried to move the kid so he could see Alan's face but the younger Tracy was having none of that. He just clung harder and John finally gave up wondering if he'd have any skin left on his chest before this was all over. The bite on his arm throbbed horribly. "And I could never hate you, Al…" He paused and then looked down at the tousled blond head. "But why is it that whenever you think one of us is mad at you, you assume we're going to hate you? Seems kind of extreme, doesn't it, dude?"

"I dunno know…"

"Would you hate me or one of the guys if we got scared and bit you?"

Alan finally pulled his face away from John's shirt now and gave his brother a disbelieving look, his pale face, tear-wet and snot smeared. John didn't bother to look down at his shirt; they were going to need to go shopping now anyway.

"Not that I'm saying we ever would," John quickly cut in before Alan could give it too much thought. "But do you think you'd just hate us?"

"Well, no…" Alan chewed his bottom lip and let his eyes drop down, "but that's different."

John frowned. He hooked a finger under his brother's chin and gently tugged Alan's face up until he could look into the turbulent cerulean eyes. "Alan? How is that different? Do you think we love you any less than you love us?" That thought bothered John deeply; where the heck would the kid come up with an idea like that?

The kid just shrugged but before the eighteen-year-old could go any further into it, the airfield guy who was hovering behind them interrupted. "Are you sure you don't need me to call an ambulance?"

John could have kicked the guy for his bad timing as Alan was already scrambling to push away and get off the bed. "Sprout?"

"Can we go back to the hospital, please?" The lingering fear in the kid's eyes as he glanced out the door and towards the runways ate at something inside John. "I don't want to fly today."

John exhaled slowly and stood as well, he quickly dabbed some antibiotic cream on the bite and wrapped it loosely in a bandage the employee offered, giving him a weak nod of appreciation.

_That, kiddo,_ he thought with sad fondness as he watched Alan fidget with the tie on front of the robe, _is going to be a problem. _

And as he ushered his trembling brother towards a parked taxi, John really hoped Scott would have some idea how to fix this because right now, the blond was drawing blanks. The only thing he knew was that they were going shopping first. Alan needed something decent to wear since it seemed, for the time being, there was going to be a delay in going home.

TBC - and more Virgil and Gordon coming up!


	17. Simple Truths

Thank you to everyone for their awesome support. I love reading your reviews and appreciate each and every one :) FYI, this story will be drawing to a close, just a couple of more chapters left but I want to thank you for going on this journey with me. And as promised - Gordon and Virgil!

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 17**

Gordon Tracy's nose was itching. It hurt like a bugger but it was still itching. His arms weren't broken but his head hurt every time he even thought about moving so the idea of moving any body part to scratch his nose wasn't exactly something he was eager to do. But maybe if he inhaled just so, he'd be able to make the itch go away… from inside.

Bad idea…

Instead of stopping the itch, he only succeeded in making himself dizzy. One of his monitors started to chirp and instantly Scott was leaning over him and asking if he was okay.

Scott! Aha. Perfect solution.

"Itchy nose," Gordon explained as a nurse rushed into the room. "Made myself dizzy."

"What?" Scott sounded confused and Gordon really wanted to roll his eyes. Instead he sighed loudly, closed his eyes and slowly moved his arm up to scratch his own darn nose.

Geez, what was the point of people being around asking if there was something they could do for him, if they didn't do the important stuff? Like scratching his poor itchy broken nose?!

"Mr. Tracy, you have to calm down," the nurse was now also leaning over him.

Mr. Tracy? Was his Dad here?

"Dad?" he frowned.

"Not, Dad, idiot," Scott chastised fondly, "you're the Mr. Tracy she's talking about."

As the nurse fussed with the monitors and frowned at Gordon, the teenager let out a happy sigh as his nose finally stopped itching and his hand slowly crept back down to his side. It hadn't gone as bad as he'd thought it was going to. His head still hurt but it actually felt better then the other times he woke up.

"Okay." He opened his eyes again and slowly moved his head to look at Virgil but his other brother wasn't awake this time. So instead he looked back at Scott, relieved when the nurse left the room. "Where's Johnny and Al?"

"Shopping," Scott said calmly, pulling an uncomfortable looking chair closer to the railing on Gordon's side of the room and sitting down. "Alan needed some clothes."

"Oh," Gordon chuckled slightly, wincing as it increased the throbbing behind his eyes, but he persevered through it, breathing evenly and slowly in and out; pain built character he reminded himself even as he doubted anyone needed this much character. "Bet Al loves that." The youngest Tracy's abhorrence to shopping was legendary. Not that any of them really enjoyed it. Except John 'cause that was just John.

"He loves flying even less," Scott commented mildly, leaning forward in his chair and scrubbing a hand across his face. Gordon frowned as he took a good long look at the older man; Scott looked like crap. And then what his brother said turned the frown into confusion.

"What are you talking about? Al loves flying. I'm the featherless bird in the family." And it was true. Gordon flew because for a Tracy, jets were akin to a car. They were modes of transportation, they served a purpose, but he didn't love them with the usual Tracy passion that even Alan, at nine, displayed. Gordon was more a wet man. Give him a puddle and he was in ecstasy.

"He did," the pilot admitted, "but the crash has really messed him up and he freaked out when John tried to get him in a rental. They were supposed to be making a quick trip home to get some things."

"What kinda things?" Gordon absently asked as he tried to sort through his own feelings at the idea of flying again now that Scott had brought it up. A slight niggle of worry chewed at his stomach but it wasn't any worse than the usual apprehension he felt before a flight so he took that as a good sign. Maybe not remembering anything about the accident helped.

"Clothes, video games for you, sketching stuff for Virgil, things like that."

"That would be nice." Gordon hadn't spend much time in a hospital before, his most serious prior ailment had required a tonsillectomy but even his limited experience warned him that boredom was going to be a beast once his head started to feel a bit better. Video games would be nice.

"Actually it was you I thought we'd have to worry about." Dark blue eyes were watching Gordon intently now.

"Ahhh, it's nice to know you care," Gordon put on a smile to take away any bite from his words, wanting Scott to know he was teasing as he had no doubt about his place in their family. They were close-knit for an eccentric, over achieving bunch of males. But Scott was still watching him, obviously waiting for a real answer so he was honest. "I dunno. I don't think it'll be a problem but it's hard to say while I'm lying here half doped out of my mind."

Scott nodded, seeming to appreciate Gordon's candidness.

"Half doped out of your mind? So nothing's really changed, huh, Gordo?" Virgil's sleepy voice quipped from the other bed. Apparently the young artist had woken up during the conversation.

"Ha, ha," Gordon retorted dryly, "always the funny man."

"It's a dirty job," Virgil grunted softly as he shifted slightly, "but someone's got to do it."

"You okay?" Scott was watching the middle Tracy now.

"Oh… peachy keen," they were told.

"_Peachy keen_?" Gordon couldn't help but grin, pleased to his brother back in the game. Things were boring when Virgil was asleep. "They got you on an extra dose of estrogen or something, man? 'Cause no self respecting guy would be caught dead saying 'peachy keen'."

"Oh yeah and what exactly would you know about that?" Virgil always did give as good as he got.

"Hey, hey," Scott stood between the two beds and mock glared at them. "Do you two stay up all night thinking this stuff up? Try to remember that you're in a hospital and there are some really sick people here. Oh and by the way, Dad's awake."

"_Dad?" _

"_He is?"_

"_How is he?"_

"_Where is he?"_

"Whoa, whoa!" Scott held up his hands in a shushing motion. "One at a time, will ya? Some of us are only running on coffee and good looks right now."

It was a testament to how anxious his brothers were for information that neither jumped at that obvious opening.

"He's doing good. The vent is out and he's stable."

"Oh thank God," Virgil's heartfelt words summed it up for them all.

"That's the good news."

"Uh oh," Gordon felt his heart start to pound and he blinked to keep his vision from going foggy.

"No, no, it's not like that," Scott rushed to assure them, "it's just going to be a long recovery. His rib cage is a mess, among other things. And we all know how much fun that's going to be. He's a tyrant when he's bed-ridden." Not that it happened very much, thank goodness.

"True," Virgil conceded slowly. Even at sixteen, the teenager already had a more than passing interest in medicine and would know better than any of them what that kind of recovery would entail. "And heaven knows exactly where we all got our impatience from."

That made both Scott and Gordon grin. Tracys did not recover well. Convalescing was against their contrary nature, well contrary in any sense that required inactivity.

"When can we see him?" Gordon wanted to know even if the idea of moving made the guillotine an attractive option.

"Not today," Scott looked apologetic.

"Tomorrow?" the red-head pressed, needing to see his father.

"Maybe," was all his oldest brother could offer; it was better than a 'no', but not by much.

"This sucks," Gordon moaned closing his eyes in weariness. His head still throbbed, his nose hurt and it was difficult to stay awake for very long.

"Yeah, basically," Scott agreed grabbing the chair and moving it so that he was more central between the beds.

"You look like crap." Virgil had obviously noticed the same things about the older man as Gordon had.

"Thanks," the pilot snorted.

"You're not welcome," Gordon heard the disapproval in his brother's voice and blurrily turned towards Virgil. The brown haired teen was frowning, his amber eyes stuck on Scott. "Have you even left since you got here?"

"Define the word 'left'," Scott huffed.

"You know what I mean, you ass," Virgil glowered as much as his pale and bruised face allowed. "When's the last time you actually slept? 'Cause I got to tell you, bro, I'm sure a ninety-two-year old granny could take you down right now."

Scott chuckled and swiped a hand across his eyes, rubbing them hard. "A ninety-two-year old, huh?"

"And to be blunt," Vigil continued, "you are absolutely no use to us if you pass out. I mean you might squish poor Gordo or something!"

"Hey!" Gordon interjected although his brother was right. Scott running himself into the ground did none of them any favors.

"Not exactly a good example to be setting for your star pupil either, bro," Virgil's tone softened. "Alan's going to freak if he gets a good look at the zombie boy impression you've got going on. Seriously, Scott, man, get out of here. You said yourself Dad is doing good, me and fish-boy here are just going to sleep and even if we're awake, it's not like we're alone. A couple of Scott-free hours isn't going to hurt us and it will do you a world a wonder."

"Star pupil?" Scott scoffed bitterly, "not sure Alan's even in my fan club anymore let alone gives two shits about any of my examples."

"Don't be so stupid," Virgil shook his head and Gordon winced along with him, "that kid thinks the sun rises and sets on you."

"Not lately." It looked like it actually hurt the older man to admit that.

Virgil snorted. "I hardly think these past couple of days can count."

Scott seemed to consider it.

"He's right, man," Gordon felt the need to add. "Al might be upset with you right now but that's just _now…_ and it doesn't count 'cause, in case you forgot, kid was in a plane crash. It's bound to screw him up a bit. But it isn't going to change how he feels about you, not deep down and not where and when it really matters. Scotty, you're still his sun even on a cloudy day." Oh God. Did he just say that? The drugs must be messing him over. Badly!

"Whoa, deep." Virgil was now watching him, raised an eyebrow and deadpanned. "And you think I'm the one freebasing estrogen?"

"Oh shut up," Gordon growled, even as his cheeks flushed red.

"No, no, wait, I know what happened," Virgil continued on gaining momentum, "you've been possessed by a ninety-two-year old woman who wrote bad poetry before she died. Hospitals are haunted, you know."

"What is it with you and that old woman today?" Scott shook his head. "Is there something I should know?"

Now it was Virgil who flushed and Gordon grinned.

"Whatever," the artist mumbled then became serious again. "But you can still go, Scott. Get out of here. Get some sleep. I'm sure the blonds will be here soon anyway. Just do us a favor, okay? Take care of yourself for a bit. We'll be fine, bro, pretty fine. I promise."

Scott gazed first at the sixteen-year-old then at Gordon. Finally, his head slowly started to nod. "Fine," he said. "But I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"Fine," there was no hesitation from Virgil. "Now go."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, "Get your ugly mug out of here. You're scaring the nurses."

Scott stood, laughing and held up his hands in supplication. "Okay, okay. I know when I'm not wanted." He turned to leave the room. "No need to get personal."

"Can you bring me a milkshake when you come back?" Gordon called out hopefully, positive his aching head would appreciate it. "Chocolate?"

Scott stopped at the door and nodded. He looked at Virgil. "Any requests?"

The younger Tracy appeared to give it some serious thought and then shook his head. "Nah, not this time. Not sure my stomach's quite ready for anything much yet."

"All right, well you guys take care of each other and don't go pissing off the staff. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

And with one final look back, Scott walked out of the room.

Virgil looked at Gordon. "Good, now that he's gone, what do you want to do?"

"Honestly?" the red-head was exhausted. "Sleep."

"Sounds like an excellent plan, O Nefarious One."

"Not quite sure what that means," Gordon admitted as his eyes slipped close and he settled comfortably against the bed, "but I'll have to kick your ass about it later."

The draw of exhaustion pulled him towards darkness and Virgil's soft laughter followed him down…

tbc


	18. Escape Plans

_Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed – I love hearing what you think and, as always, thank you Red. She is an awesome beta and any mistakes are mine, not hers. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 18**

Jeff Tracy was not a very good patient. In fact, since he'd woken up a week earlier he'd been a bear to be around. Grizzly enough that he'd almost had the hospital administrator, an annoying little man whose very name irked Jeff – Blair _Wanking_ – in tears. Twice.

It actually was quite an accomplishment to almost make a grown man cry, even if the retired astronaut felt a minuscule amount of guilt afterwards. However, after being told about the horrific mix-up with Alan the night they were flown into Emergency, and then about the reporter incident, he was just not ready to suffer the plight of fools. And Wanking was definitely a fool, even if he seemed to have somehow ingratiated himself with Scott, which in itself was perhaps worth a bit more of Jeff's tolerance. He'd see how things went as it would seem he was stuck here for at least another week. Oh joy.

Jeff's attention was diverted as the door to his room opened and his two oldest sons walked in and smiled at him. His heart filled with pride at how they had stood up under the weight of this event, dropping their own studies and training to take care of the family, and staying on afterwards even when everyone was given the all clear.

He saw how pale John looked; a ghost under a mop of disheveled blond hair, nowhere near the normally efficiently groomed young scientist that he had been in New York. Scott was tense and raccoon eyed, wearier looking than any young man should be, Jeff knew he was making the right decision… For all of them.

"Boys," he greeted, a smile hiding the wince as his still badly bruised face protested the use of that many muscles all at one time. "You got my message?"

"Hard to miss Wanking pounding through the hallway yelling, "_Your father wants to see you, Mr. Tracys! Your father wants to see you!"_'

John snickered at Scott's very good impression of the frantic administrator and a chuckle tugged at Jeff's own lips. God, it was so good to see them smile.

The first few days after he'd regained consciousness were a blur of pain, confusion and visits by Scott, John or Alan. Actually Alan seemed to be the one who spent most of the time with him in the beginning but he hadn't seen the kid so much since he'd moved into the private suite on the top floor. Gordon and Virgil's room was at the other end of the hall, although after today that was going to change. Gordon was being discharged, hence why Jeff had asked to speak to his two eldest sons, alone.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Scott asked as he stood on one side of his father's bed and appraised him quietly. Those dark blue eyes missed nothing, Jeff noted wryly, not really appreciating being hovered over by his sons. There was just something inherently wrong with that.

And the feeling was not helped when John, the shorter of the two, 'towered' over him from the other side. He so needed to get out of this bed. However his still badly injured midsection begged to differ and until Morphine was no longer his friend, Jeff was just going to have to cope. Unfortunately for the entire staff of the eleventh floor, his coping skills sucked. Well that wasn't true but they refused to install a flight simulator in the room just for him, even if he was _the Jeff Tracy_. *

Jeff actually did chuckle softly when he remembered the look on Wanking's face at that request. The hilarious thing was that the man seemed to be seriously considering the feasibility of the request at the time. Man, Morphine really was not a pleasant drug for Jeff; totally turned him into an ass when agitated. He made a mental note to mention that to his doctor the next time the man was in and then answered his son before Scott got any more tense and popped a shoulder or something. "I'm fine, boys. Don't worry."

The boys shared a look then waited for Jeff to explain why he'd asked them to come, as if he needed any reason to want to see them.

This morning they'd been in their brothers' room helping Gordon get ready to go and consoling – well… tormenting – Virgil, since, like Jeff, Virgil wasn't quite healed up enough to be discharged. A couple of more days though, the doctors promised.

"I've been thinking," Jeff started, pleased to see the eager look on Scott's face, knowing the younger man was happy to have Jeff at the helm of the Tracy starship once again. "About Gordon's discharge and I've changed my mind. I don't want him going back to the hotel, I want him going home."

John, the perfect second-in-command to Scott, shifted and glanced at his older brother to see his reaction.

Scott himself seemed totally knocked for a loop. An odd uncomprehending look twisted his handsome face comically as he managed a rather un-Scott- like, "Huh?"

"I just think something transient is not what he needs. Gordon needs to be back in his own bed where he can properly get some rest. Not here, making daily vigils to watch us heal. So I want John to take him home. I've already called the airport and made arrangements for the jet and logged a flight plan."

That got a response from John whose eyes widened. "Me? Aw, crap." Jeff looked at him and the blond blushed. "Uh, sorry, Dad. I mean 'yeah, sure, delighted." His father couldn't help but notice the way John glanced down at the healing bite wound on his arm and knew the kid was remembering his last disastrous attempt to take one of brothers home. "Can I get hazard pay this time?" John tried to joke but it fell flat and Jeff knew it wasn't from lack of desire to do the task. The blond loved his brothers dearly and didn't hold what happened against Alan but at himself for not being able to fix things that day. And John was undoubtedly worried at failing again, this time with Gordon, and possibly Alan since Jeff hadn't dropped that bombshell on them yet.

Giving John a sympathetic look, Jeff promised, "You won't need it, kiddo. It's only going to be you and Gordon and since I've already made a request to have him sedated I don't think he's going to be agitated enough to bite you."

"Whoa, wait," Scott finally found coherency again. "Sedation? Dad… is that necessary?"

"It won't knock him out," Jeff promised. "Just take the edge of his anxiety. I just think that in light of what happened with Alan, I'd prefer that for his first flight since the crash, Gordon be mildly sedated."

"I should have done that with Alan," Scott commented glumly but Jeff shook his head.

"No, I don't think that would have worked, because unlike me, Gordon or Virgil, Alan remembers the fear of the crash. He was awake for it. Neither myself nor his other brothers remembers anything after the birds hitting the plane… It's both a blessing and a curse in this case because, while it shouldn't make our next flight any more than a bit disquieting, it won't help Alan either because whatever happened after the crash and before the rescue is the ghost that's chasing him now."

"Alan was awake?" John frowned. "I didn't know that. I know he was conscious when the rescuers got to the jet, but I – actually I never really gave it much thought afterwards."

"Me neither," Scott looked guilty.

"Hey, hey, enough of that. I can already see you guys shredding holes in your super-big-brother undies and it's not like that. Alan hadn't told anyone about that. He only admitted it to me yesterday and then it sort of came out by mistake. So there is no way in hell either of you, or Virgil or Gordon could have guessed-"

"Uh, that's not exactly true," John scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. "The first night I took Al back to the hotel, the kid had a mother of a tantrum and afterwards he made a comment about a promise he made to Virgil. I was going to ask what he was talking about but he was totally wiped and I wasn't much further behind him, so I let it drop but, man, now I really wish I hadn't…"

"Sucks to be human, huh?" Jeff reached out carefully and nudged his son's arm. "Anyway, none of that changes my plans. Alan isn't ready for that flight yet but Gordon is so I want you, John, to take our little fish home and then stay there with him and get some downtime yourself. You can come back when Virgil's ready to go. By that time Alan'll be ready and Scott can take him home."

"Alan? Ready? What?" Scott was shaking his head. "I don't think that's going to be a good idea, Dad. Not for me to fly Al home, anyway."

"You're the only one who can," Jeff replied sagely. "And since I'm the dad and I raised you better then this, you're not going to argue with me but trust that I know my sons and what's best for them. All five of them."

Scott still looked like he wanted to protest but, ever the good soldier, sucked it up with a tight nod. "Okay, fine." He conceded but didn't look at all convinced.

"Are you sure Gordon's going to be okay?" John was looking at his arm again. "He's faster than Al…"

"And can probably bite a lot harder," Scott felt the need the tease.

"Be nice," Jeff ordered but there was no heat in his words or look, just fond affection and wonderment at the young men he had raised. "Besides I know for a fact that Gordon doesn't like to bite, he's a kicker."

John's eyes widened and his concerned gaze shifted lower. He winced, screwed up his face and glanced sideways at his older brother. "A cup then?"

"Definitely." Scott agreed.

And pain be damned, Jeff finally let out a hearty laugh and yeah it hurt, but it also felt good. What would he ever do without his boys?

------

"What are you _doing_?" Virgil frowned as he watched his youngest brother standing in the middle of the hospital room with a half empty cup of hot chocolate precariously balanced on his head.

Alan held his arms out to his side and carefully walked between the two beds in the suite, a big grin on his young face. "Practicing," he announced as if the sixteen-year-old should have already known.

"Oh, of course," Virgil snorted, absently wondering what was taking Gordon so long in the bathroom. An hour away from being discharged, the red-head had disappeared twenty minutes earlier to get dressed. "Dare I even ask what you're practicing _for_?"

" 'Cause Gordon said I couldn't do it, so I'm practicing to show him I can!"

"But practicing what?" The brunette knew he was missing something and blamed it on the painkillers he was still being regularly dosed with. Although his surgical incision was healing nicely, Dr. Avery refused to release Virgil until he had been fever-free for twenty-four hours as the teen had been running a low-grade fever since his surgery. A change in antibiotics was expected to finally clear up the post-op infection Virgil had been battling with.

"Balancing!" Alan's blue eyes shone with success as he made it all the way to the end of Gordon's bed and started to slowly turn around. However he'd misjudged where the edge was and brushed against it. It wasn't much of a jar but it was enough –

"Alan!" Virgil watched in horror as Alan fumbled for the cup, the cardboard container slipping between his fingers and spilling dark brown drink over the yellow t-shirt the boy was wearing. Thank goodness the hot chocolate was only warm but still the teen reached for his drenched brother, hissing in pain as he jostled his broken ribs. "Are you okay?"

Crest-fallen, Alan just stared down at his shirt, stunned.

"Al?" Virgil grabbed his arm and tugged the boy closer.

Slowly Alan lifted bright blue eyes to his brother, they filled with tears.

"Hey, hey," Virgil knew the kid was upset about spilling the drink. "It's okay. Nothing we can't clean up." Alan just stared miserably at him. "C'mon, Sprout, I need to know, are you okay?" Stifling a gasp, he plucked at the wet shirt. "Did it burn you?"

"I really just wanted to do it." Alan mumbled still not answering his brother's question.

"And you did, kiddo. I saw you!" Virgil consoled. "That sneaky bed just jumped right out at you, that's all." Alan had to be okay if he was so worried about something so trivial.

"Well…" Alan seemed to give the argument some thought and eyed the bed critically, "it _is_ Gordon's bed."

"Enough said, then, isn't it?" Virgil carefully leaned back in the bed, breathing slowly through the throbbing pain. Even a week later, he really wasn't supposed to be moving around so much yet. Being hurt sucked. "Let's get your shirt changed. By then the princess should be out of the bathroom and we can get some paper towels to clean this mess up." Of course he wasn't going to be able to help but he'd give his brother the moral support of 'we' instead of 'you'.

Alan frowned. "I don't got any other shirts with me."

"You don't 'have' any other shirts with you," Virgil corrected.

"That's what I said!"

"Well you can't keep that one on. It's dirty," the older Tracy reminded Alan. "Why don't you borrow one of Gordon's?" John had bought some extra clothes for both Virgil and Gordon and knew something of the red-head's would be a better fit on their youngest brother.

"I dunno…" Alan was hesitant and plucked at the edge of the soaked shirt.

"Well I do, so just grab one of out of the bag," Virgil indicated the overnight bag on the floor under Gordon's bed. "And get changed before Scott or John get a look at you." He was pretty sure they'd think Alan had somehow, and quietly, managed to eviscerate himself.

The subtle threat had Alan moving and the blond boy quickly pulled [out] a blue t-shirt with a killer whale logo on the front out of the bag. When he didn't immediately start to change, Virgil frowned. "What's wrong? Aren't you going to put it on?"

Alan gave his head a little shake.

"Well, why not?" Sometimes, Virgil swore, Alan tried to be difficult on purpose just to push his buttons. But when the kid glanced at the bathroom again and then down at the shirt in his hands things clicked into place and the older boy blanched. How could he forget? "Oh, Al," he sighed. "It's okay. It's just me here. I'll even close my eyes. I won't look." Alan hated anyone seeing him shirtless.

"Do you promise?"

Virgil hated the slight tremble in his little brother's voice and cursed the kids who put it there. Unlike anyone else in his family, the young artist knew the roots of Alan's eccentricity but had been promised to secrecy by the little boy.

"I promise…" he shut his eyes and turned his head away. "See?"

Alan hesitated for another moment and then Virgil heard the hurried rustling of clothing and he sighed quietly. "Alan," he'd tried having this conversation before and hoped his brother would actually listen to him this time. "You know they were being stupid, don't you?" He heard his brother pause. "That day at the beach? Those older kids? They were being stupid." Alan huffed something and Virgil heard him moving again. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, bro. You're just a little boy, that's all."

"But-" Alan started but before he could say anything Virgil heard the bathroom door open and then Gordon's voice,

"_Hey, that's my favorite shirt!"_

Virgil cursed Gordon's timing as he opened his eyes and saw a white-face Alan holding up his ruined shirt. He made a mental note to talk to one of his older brother's about Alan and what happened that day then opened his mouth to explain…

Tbc


	19. Story Telling

Thank you for all the wonderful comments. I'm sorry if I missed anyone in my replies but here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy. This is turning out to be a little longer than I was expecting (the story not the chapter, lol!), so please bear with me :P

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 19**

"Did Gordon get off okay?" Virgil demanded as soon as Scott pushed open the door to his room and strode inside. Alan was down the hall, waiting with their father for Virgil to be moved to the larger room, while the oldest Tracy brother had walked Gordon and John downstairs.

"Yes, he did." Scott grinned as he grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to Virgil's bed before sitting down and leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs and added, "And so did Johnny."

"I'm not worried about J," the sixteen-year-old admitted truthfully.

"Well maybe you should be," Scott teased lightly. "You heard what happened when he tried to take Sprout home. Damn near needed stitches."

"True," Virgil conceded. His honey brown eyes shone. "But he's not the one flying for the first time since almost dying in a crash."

"Gordon'll be alright." Scott assured him easily. "Yeah, he's a bit nervous but he's always had a set of balls on him, so I'm not _too_ worried. When has _anything_ ever been able to keep that kid down? Man… there are days when I don't if I should be proud as hell of him or scared to death for him."

Virgil agreed with his older brother. The family fish loved challenges and refused to let anything get the better of him, especially his own fear or someone trying to set a limitation on him, so, although Virgil still was unsettled and wished he was flying home with his brothers today, the teen also knew that Gordon would be okay. And, by default, John would be as well.

"I suppose," he sighed and plucked at the thin tubing of his IV. "I just want to be going home too."

Scott's warm hand closed over Virgil's and stilled the agitated movement. It squeezed gently. "I know, bro, hopefully these new antibiotics will kick this infection in the ass once and for all, but until then, just think of all the personal father-son bonding time you and Dad are going to have being in the same room." He grinned broadly, "I'm almost envious."

"No you're not!" Virgil scoffed. "You know what a horrible patient Dad is. He- he makes other men cry!" Scott started to laugh as the artist went on. "He snores when he's asleep and talks on the phone when he's awake. He's going to be a terrible roommate!"

"Stop! _Stop_!" Scott was doubled over laughing so hard he had tears running down his cheeks. "You're killing me here!"

Virgil pulled his hand away and gingerly crossed his arms so he could properly glare at his brother. He loved his father, he really did, but loving the guy and being roommates with him when Jeff Tracy was convalescing was another thing. Virgil missed Gordon already. He pouted. "It's not funny."

Scott sucked in a couple of calming breaths as he palmed the wetness off his face. He cleared his throat and tried for seriousness. "Well then, why are you moving into his room? You could have said no."

Virgil's glare turned to disbelief until finally the pilot held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. But hey, I don't think it'll be that bad. He's mellowing in his old age… And me and Al'll be here during the day, that should help."

"Speaking of Al," Virgil bit his lip and then pressed on. "Hey you remember last summer when Dad took us for a week to Cape Canaveral?"

Scott frowned, probably wondering about the randomness of his brother's question. "Uh, sure…" he shrugged easily. "We spent most of our time at Cocoa Beach while Dad was stuck in conferences most of the time. Weather was bitching hot and…" his frown turned into a smug little grin as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. "Ooh Ginger, beach blanket bingo, oh yeah, I remember."

Virgil rolled his eyes. _Ginger_. He'd almost forgotten about the Botox princess with inflatable assets and Clairol 108 red hair. She'd followed Scott and John around like they were the second coming. Fluttering her eyelashes and wearing less and less clothing as the week went past until, finally, by the time Scott gave her his undivided attention she was down to pasties and a thong that would have made dental floss envious. The sixteen-year-old blushed and shifted slightly on the bed, okay, that was not the trip down memory lane he wanted to go on. Clearing his throat and reaching out to poke his brother and get rid of that dreamy look in Scott's eyes, Virgil continued. "Something sorta happened-"

Instantly his older brother's eyes were hard. "What? Did someone try to mess with you? Who were they? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Virgil tried to calm down his increasingly agitated sibling. This was exactly why Alan had insisted the oldest Tracys didn't need to know but Al was still being affected by it over a year later so it was time Virgil told. "Nothing like that, I promise! Geez, a guy'd have to be on a suicide mission to consider messing with one of us. Odds instantly become 5-1."

"Five? Alan -"

"Is a hell of force to contend with if he thinks one of us has been slighted."

Scott started to chuckle, "Oh yeah, I'd almost forgotten about the 'virgin' thing. Sprout did stand up for you, didn't he?"

"I don't need a little kid fighting my battles," Virgil defended.

"Never said you did, bro," but Scott was grinning.

Virgil let it go with a huff. "Anyways…

_The summer sun was hot and beat down on the white sands of Cocoa Beach. Fifteen-year-old Virgil Tracy wasn't enjoying it though. Not the same way his other brothers were._

_John and Scott, shirtless, barefoot and wearing only swimming trunks had been recruited for a friendly game of beach volleyball. Apparently the muscular young men had attracted more than just that bimbo redhead's attention. So after making sure Virgil was okay under his big, colorful beach umbrella – stupid step, stupid mis-step, stupid crutches, stupid sprained ankle – and that Alan was occupied doing something with sand, a giant shovel and a bottle of water, the older Tracys had agreed to play a game, dragging a protesting Gordon along with them. It had started with a game to see how long they could keep the family fish out of the water, and so far they'd been at the beach for two hours and Gordon had yet to get wet. _

_Virgil sketched for a while keeping a half eye on Alan as the kid started to build a pretty impressive sand castle. Socially gregarious, the little blond had already made a couple of friends with some older boys and it amused the young artist to hear the eight-year-old giving 'construction tips' to pre-teens. _

Loud cheering from the volleyball game had everyone turning their heads towards the commotion. Apparently the team the Tracys were on were kicking ass – big shock there – and Scott was whooping it up with his usual loudness and flare. Virgil rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. And people wondered where Gordon got it from.

_Speaking of Gordon, Virgil did a head check and then returned to his sketch with a grin. Gordon had snuck halfway down to the water and the older teen didn't have the heart to turn him in._

_A shouted, "Hey, Gordo, get back here – we need a fresh player," by John had Virgil chuckling. Poor fish. Of course, the other boys knew Gordon would get them back for this somehow, but hey they were brothers. Tormenting each other was what they did. _

"_You are kidding me! There is __no__ way you're __any__ relation to those guys-"_

_Raucous laughter and the raised voice of one of Alan's 'friends' grabbed Virgil's attention. He stopped drawing._

_Alan was standing with his hands on his hips and glaring up at the bigger boys. It struck Virgil for the first time the size difference between his youngest brother and the kids he was playing with. At eight, Alan was still rather slim and hadn't started to put on any of the muscle bulk his family knew he would. They'd all started out as pipsqueaks. _

_Reaching for his crutches Virgil slowly started to stand._

"_Are too! They're my big brothers!" Alan was incensed. _

"_Yeah __they're__ big all right. Not like you, chicken leg boy. Bwak bwak, I can count your ribs!"_

"Hey," Virgil had heard enough.

_The boys looked at him and one of them actually sneered. "Who are you?"_

"_One of his other big brothers." Virgil tipped his head towards Alan. He knew he was disadvantaged with crutches in sand but he could walk, okay well more limp, on his bad ankle if he had to. _Worst_ case scenario though, even with all the noise and joviality of the volleyball game, he knew he was only a shout away from reinforcements, and then they'd really see just how big Scott was and how fast that man could move across sand._

"_You can't be serious," another boy scoffed. He eyed Virgil's physique__, __which even at fifteen was impressive. "No wonder you're hiding out over here. I'd be too embarrassed to be anywhere near this shrimp too." _

_Virgil's eyes narrowed as the other boys laughed and Alan's faced turned crimson. "Apparently you guys were born stupid." His voice was cold and he knew he had their attention. "So let me spell this out for you in small words so you can understand. He __is__ my brother." He pointed at Alan. Then he pointed towards where Gordon was stalking away from the game fully intent on getting into the water this time. "He is his brother." He then gestured to John who was following Gordon and trying to convince the younger Tracy that Gordon was needed for something or other that no one else on the beach could apparently provide. "He is also his brother… And that big guy over there who looks like he could bench press a small car?" Scott. "He is also his brother. This kid," he indicated Alan again. "Has four older brothers. Count them. __Four__. So let me say this again. __**Hey**__." _

_The boys immediately backpedaled. "Okay, okay," one of them babbled. "No harm done. C'mon guys, let's go somewhere fun." _

_Virgil watched them take off before turning back to Alan. The younger boy was digging frantically through the small backpack he'd brought along with him for sunscreen, bottled water and beach toys before finding what he was looking for…_

_A thin t-shirt. _

"Yeah, and so well, you know how he's been since then." Virgil finally finished his story. "Mr. Modesty to the nth power."

Scott was furious. "What the hell? Virg why didn't you tell us about this when it happened?"

"So, what? So you could embarrass Alan even more by making a big deal out of this? Or even worse be brought up on assault charges after you'd hunted those little jerks down and pounded their faces in the sand? Like that would make for a fun family vacation memory…"

"It wasn't really a family vacation," Scott corrected absently. "Dad was hardly there."

"Okay, brother bonding time then."

Scott sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. He wasn't as tired looking now but Virgil knew the pilot was still exhausted. "More like _'Scott and Ginger'_ bonding time." He huffed out another sigh. "I'm sorry Virgil."

"For what?" Virgil was genuinely confused.

"Well for ditching you guys like I did. You were laid up and I knew something was up with Sprout but well…"

"Ginger?" Virgil helped.

"Ginger. Man, that woman was a piece…"

Virgil's ears flamed. "Okay, enough, Scott. Anyways, you got nothing to be sorry for. We had an awesome time."

"Your ankle was sprained-"

"Doesn't mean I didn't have fun… I helped Alan finish his monster sand castle. Provided an alibi for Gordon when he finally took to sea, _and_ got to watch you and Johnny let down your hair and have some fun. It was a great week." Virgil smiled. He wasn't lying. Sure he would have liked Jeff to have been around more but it was okay because his brothers were there.

"I've never had long hair. John did. Does. Freakin' guy is nearly a hippie." Scott grumbled good-naturedly.

"You're just jealous."

"Bite me."

"Sorry. Not my flavor."

And then the door to the room opened and a smiling nurse told the Tracys that Virgil was ready to be moved.

------

The smile faded from Scott's face as he followed the nurses as they pushed Virgil's bed down the hall. He needed to talk to Alan.

TBC


	20. The Road to Recovery

Thank you Alaina for the wonderful beta job. And thank you to everyone for their wonderful comments and support. These boys are a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 20**

"Drugs are goood," Gordon drawled out as he reclined in the co-pilot seat, well reclined as much as the safety restraints would allow, and grinned at his older brother.

John chuckled as he glanced over and shook his head. "You drool and you're scrubbing the whole cockpit."

"Why?" Gordon yawned then winced as the movement hurt his nose. "It's not ours."

The older Tracy seemed to consider that for a moment as he deftly piloted the small plane across the western seaboard and towards the Pacific Ocean, then deadpanned. "You have a point. Drool away."

"I don't drool anyway," the red-head rubbed his head, his lips pursed in petulance. "I leak."

John noticed the movement and his blue eyes clouded with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Gordon's hand dropped. "It's nothing getting back home and in my own bed won't fix."

"You're just dying for Kyrano's cooking," the blond teased with a grin.

"And you're not?" his brother challenged.

John continued to grin – and God didn't it feel good too, after having spent so many days worried and on edge – but he didn't answer and for the next few minutes the brothers flew in companionable silence.

"I wish Dad and Virgil were coming home with us," Gordon quietly admitted. He closed his eyes tiredly. Even without the mild sedative coursing through his body, the young swimmer would have been exhausted. This was the most activity he'd had since the accident.

"They'll soon be home," John assured him. "It'd be worse if they were released too early."

"I know," Gordon sighed, "But still…"

"I hear ya, kiddo," John reached across and gently tousled the kid's copper hair. The strands were like silk through his fingers and he smiled fondly, Gordon always did have soft hair. Not that he'd ever tell his brother. Then to take the edge off the sadness on the teen's face, he lightly teased, "What about Scott and Al? Don't you wish they were coming with us too?"

"No!" Gordon's eyes popped open. "They can ride in their own plane. I saw what Alan did to your arm – man, I don't want to be anywhere near that kid the next time he's gotta fly."

John winced briefly at the memory and then laughed. "Okay, I'll give you that. Poor Scott."

"Poor Scott, my ass," Gordon grumbled, his eyes starting to close again. "He's a big boy. I'm sure he can take Al."

"I can already see it. The press would have a field day. _Crack Air Force pilot Scott Tracy seen squashing nine-year-old sibling into submission_. Yeah, Dad would love that!"

"Ouch! Stop making me laugh," the younger Tracy complained as he reached up to rub gently at his forehead again. "It's making my head hurt worse."

"You started it," John defended himself but grew quiet for a few moments. The plane banked slightly to the right as he made a course correction. "Now the one I'm really worried about is Virgil." He confessed seriously. "Bunking with Dad? That's going to be tough."

Gordon's eyes slipped completely closed, his words started to slur as he settled down and slowly gave into the effects of the drugs. "Yeah, poor guy…"

The older man glanced across at him and his eyes softened. He didn't say anything… just hummed quietly to himself and let his little brother sleep.

------

"I don't care what it takes!" Jeff Tracy's voice boomed through Virgil's head as he listened to his father talking to someone on the phone. "I want those drafts on Morgan's desk within the hour. That'll give her just enough time to run a quick technical analysis and have a rough copy ready for the board by the end of the day." His father had been at this for the last two hours. An obvious sign that the great Jeff Tracy was on the mend. "Call Brains if you need the schematics re-run, and fax the preliminary cost projection to me here, attention _Blair_…"

He looked at Virgil for the hospital administrator's last name and the young artist deadpanned, "Wanker."

Jeff continued to look at him obviously not completely convinced but the teen returned the gaze with one of pure innocence. Hey, it was close enough… and the irritating administrator certainly was one if you asked him.

"Wan_king_," his father remembered correctly as he lifted an eyebrow in mild reproach. Virgil shrugged then turned his head to look at an overpriced picture hanging on the closest wall. His father's side of the room had the awesome view.

Alan was sitting quietly at a small table near the room door watching them. It was hard to have any kind of conversation when their father was on the phone, and Scott had left the room some time ago to check in with his base.

Virgil absently wondered how much more time his oldest brother would be allowed before having to return to training. He was going to miss Scott when he was gone again. And John… He hated that the two men weren't living at home full time anymore. It was hard going from middle child to oldest when they were gone. Neither Alan nor Gordon listened to him properly most of the time.

"Hey Virgil," Alan moved from the chair to stand by his brother's bed as Jeff finished with one call and immediately started on the next. "Wanna play a game?"

"What kind of game?" he asked the nine-year-old. Not like he could get up from bed yet. Truth be told, he just really wanted to close his eyes and get some sleep.

"It's an imagination game," Alan smiled at him. "You close your eyes and I'll tell you what to imagine."

"Oh." Virgil thought about it for a few moments. That didn't sound too bad. He grinned. "Why the heck not? How do we start?"

"Well," the blond boy pursed his lips in concentration for a moment and then giggled. "Just close your eyes, silly!"

"Okay…" Virgil closed his eyes. His body settled just a bit more against the bed. "Now what?"

"Now you have to imagine everything I say…"

A sudden visual of racing cars and fiery crashes made Virgil grimace – maybe this wasn't such a good idea but then Alan started to talk.

"You're in Daddy's office on the island, sitting on the floor and looking out the windows overlooking the water. The sky is black. There's a big storm coming and you watch as the clouds move closer and closer. There's no thunder, only wind, which is good 'cause you know Alan doesn't like thunder," that made Virgil smile but then he refocused on the images his brother was creating. "The leaves on the trees are blowing… Can you hear them, Virgil? Can you? They're making swish swishing noises," and God love him but so was Alan. The young artist felt himself relax more.

He could see Alan's storm so easily. The large leafy trees blowing, as an increasing gale picked up the tops of the waves, turned them white and threw them against the island…

His father's telephone voice droned away against the backdrop for the storm but before Virgil saw the first fat, wet rain drop, he was asleep.

------

Alan smiled to himself. It worked. He'd tricked Virgil into going asleep. His brother had looked so tired, the little boy figured it was the least he could do. And he knew that whenever there were things around making it hard for him to fall asleep – and Virgil hated noise when he was tired – Alan just thought about storms and, for some odd reason, he was soon really dreaming them. He'd never tell his brothers though. They'd think it was silly.

He watched Virgil for a few minutes to make sure the teenager was really sleeping then turned his attention to his father and frowned. The man was still on the phone and it bothered Alan. How was his Dad going to get well enough to come home if he didn't get some sleep too? The child wondered if the imagination game would work on the man but then shrugged it off. Probably not.

Alan wasn't even sure his father had dreams anymore. The man seemed to be all about work, work and work. Even on their trip to New York, Jeff had been busy. Not that Alan really minded too much because he got to spend an awesome time – the image of being cold and a walk-in freezer at the aquarium flittered through his mind – well a mostly awesome time with his older brothers. But still, sometimes he wished his father would spend more time with them without it being because he was too hurt to talk on the phone.

Jeff, as if aware of his son's thoughts, suddenly paused mid-speech and saw Alan watching him. His eyes held the boy's gaze for a few long moments before casting a look at a sleeping Virgil. Alan sighed, dropped his gaze and moved back to his chair. He wondered if Scott would take him to the cafeteria when his brother got back.

"Uh, actually, I have to go…"

Alan sighed again as he heard his father winding down his current phone call. _Must have someone else he needs to talk to_, he thought glumly to himself as he leaned against the table and propped his cheek up against his hand. For one fleeting moment he wished he'd gone home with John and Gordon but immediate panic at the idea of flying squished that thought as he bolted up straight.

"Alan, Son? Are you okay?" His father was off the phone and watching him.

"I'm fine," Alan rushed to assure even as his heart gave another fearful thud before starting to settle down.

"You sure? You look a bit pale there…" before Jeff could say anything else the door to the room opened and Scott strode back in.

"Hey, Dad," he lowered his voice when he saw Virgil. "Oh good, he's sleeping. Poor kid was exhausted. Hey," he started back up on the track of whatever he was originally going to say. "Do you mind if I steal Al here for a couple of hours? I've got a couple of things to do and could use the company."

Alan blinked half in shock, half in trepidation. He hadn't spent much time alone with Scott recently and wasn't sure how he felt about that. Things were better between him and his oldest brother since Scott had relented on his original idea of sending Alan away, but they weren't back to normal by any account. So while he was pleased that Scott wanted him to come along with him, Alan was also nervous.

Jeff, on the other hand, seemed to have no concerns at all. "Actually I think that would be perfect. Virgil's sleeping and I have a couple more calls to make," he paused when he saw Alan's frown. "Is that okay with you, kiddo?"

"No," Alan stated firmly.

"No?" Scott seemed to actually pale at the rebuke and the blond continued.

"Not unless you," he looked pointedly at Jeff, "promise not to do any more phone calling and you get some rest too." When his father looked like he was about to argue, Alan pressed on, his blue eyes almost glowing with emotion. "I want you to be able to come home for Johnny's birthday too and you can't do that if you don't get some rest too, and you can't rest if you're on the phone!" His voice rose as he spoke but when Virgil murmured something and shifted in his sleep, Alan forced himself to calm down. "So please, Daddy, no more calls? Please?"

------

"Oh Alan," Jeff Tracy sighed sadly. He looked at Scott, who suddenly found something on the far wall very interesting, then turned back to his youngest son. The plea was heartfelt and hit home as he thought about how he'd been acting all day. He'd basically been on the phone since he'd woken up that morning and while the staff didn't seem to mind – if he was otherwise distracted, then he couldn't be badgering them – he realized how unfair it was to his sons. He actually winced as he thought about Virgil and wondered how the poor kid could sleep through his little work triages... If he kept this up, the teen would probably be putting in a request for a new roommate.

"Please, Daddy," Alan repeated as he moved to his father's bedside. "I want you to be better."

"Alan," Jeff started and then stopped. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Okay."

"_Okay?" _It was Scott who spoke and he sounded startled as his attention was once against riveted on his father.

"Yes," Jeff smiled fondly at his sons. "Okay. Alan is right. I need to get out of here and I can't do that if I don't rest. So why don't you boys go and run those errands and I promise I'll try to get some rest."

Alan didn't look convinced.

"Here," Jeff held out the phone. It hurt to do this but not nearly as much as hearing his son beg for him to look after himself. "Take this with you. A man whose plans are for a nap doesn't need his phone."

The little boy took the device almost reverently. He looked down at for a long time and then a big smile filled his young face. "Oh Daddy!" he beamed, "thank you!" And then because he didn't have pockets he passed the phone to Scott. "You get some sleep and you'll be good as new in no time. You'll see. I just know it."

"I'm sure I will," Jeff settled back in the bed and watched his sons as they prepared to go. "You guys have a good time, all right?"

"We will," Alan promised although he had no idea where Scott was taking him.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Scott promised, then took his brother's hand and escorted the boy out of the room.

Jeff watched them go and fought the sense of foreboding he always got when his sons left to go somewhere. Even if it was only to the store. Then closed his eyes and did what he promised. He got some sleep.

TBC


	21. Catharsis

Oh boy, I have to apologize for the delay in posting. I've been sick since the beginning of October and am only now coming up for air. So I want to thank you for your continued support and patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 21**

"So what we gonna do?" Alan asked, his blue eyes watching his oldest brother as Scott drove out of the underground parking lot of the hospital. They ignored the flurry of unhappy reporters who shouted out questions and demanded comments as they passed by.

_Idiots_, Scott thought before answering his brother. "Well," he kept his voice casual knowing Alan was not going to like this. "We're going shopping. You need some new t-shirts. You're running a bit low, kiddo."

As expected, the younger blond scowled and crossed his arms. "I got plenty. John bought 'em for me."

"You have three," Scott corrected, a smile tugging at his lips as he could feel his brother's glare although he kept his eyes faced forward and on the road. "Plus that one from Gordon."

"See?" Alan gloated, "Plenty."

"Your definition of the word 'plenty' is pretty generous, kiddo. Besides one of the nurses was telling me about this awesome place downtown and I thought we'd check it out. I could use a couple new ones myself." Sexy nurse Mandy had made mention of the place briefly last night while she and Scott were _talking_ in the stairwell. Well talking… among other things. _Man, that girl was talented._ Blushing slightly at the memory of the hot young nurse and her even hotter mouth, Scott cleared his throat and reached over to give Alan's leg a squeeze. "Trust me, bro. You're going to love this place."

Ten minutes later Alan still didn't look convinced as he sullenly followed his older brother around the small, specialized t-shirt store. Everything that Scott picked up got a quiet head-shake.

"Oh, come on, kid, give me a break – what's wrong with this one?" Scott held up a light blue one with 'I do whatever my Rice Krispies tell me' stenciled on the front.

"Don't like Rice Krispies."

"This one?" He held up a white one with red lettering that said 'Dear Santa, let me explain…'

"Don't believe in Santa."

That got a disbelieving look from Scott. "Since when?"

"Since Gordon gave me 'the talk' last year."

_Mental note to self_, Scott frowned, _kick Gordon's ass._ His fire haired sibling had firmly believed in Santa until he was almost eleven, Al was only nine.

"'Sides," Alan continued on, "Like I said, I don't-" His mouth fell open, his face paled and his eyes went wide as he saw the plain white t-shirt with black lettering that Scott was now holding up.

It said '_Property of Scott_.'

"Scott?" Alan's voice trembled and Scott smiled gently at him.

"How about this one?"

"I-I…" the little boy stammered, then with eyes filled with tears he turned and bolted from the store.

"Alan!" Scott yelled taking off after his brother, "Stop! Wait!" but Alan kept running.

------

_A soft-spoken nurse nudged him towards a quiet examination room and onto the bed. _

Alan heard Scott yelling after him but he didn't stop.

_Mutely, the boy let her help him out of his ruined shirt but when she went to take it away, he reached out and snagged at the material. _

Pavement pounded beneath his sneakers as he angled around people walking on the sidewalks. An old man cursed at him.

"_No," he whispered, his trembling fingers tightened on the shirt, "p-please…" The words were soft, slurred and took effort as a large, fat tear rolled down his pale face, dropped off his cheek and burned his skin. "S'mine…"_

Scott was closing the distance between them and Alan shot across the street. Horns blared and he narrowly avoided being hit by a taxi.

"_Oh, baby," the nurse whispered. She reached up to wipe at a second tear but Alan jerked slightly so she let her hand drop. "It's okay…" she tried to console. "It's just a shirt. We can get you another one." _

Suddenly he just stopped, his chest heaving for breath as he turned to face his brother. Scott, red-faced and furious looking pounded through the traffic towards him. Around him horns blared, drivers swore.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Alan yelled at Scott. His hands curled into fists and he leaped towards his brother, pounding at the pilot's muscular chest and arms. "YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT! IT'S NOT MY SHIRT! IT'S NOT."

Scott seemed stunned for a few moments before he reacted, easily grabbing at the lashing fists, his larger hands closing around the fragile wrists. His grip was warm but carefully tight; restraining without hurting. "ALAN!" he yelled back to be heard. "STOP IT."

And just like that, Alan stopped. Boneless, he sank to his knees as Scott – still holding his wrists – crouched with him. "I'm sorry," Alan whispered desperately, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Geez, kid," Scott huffed out sadly then gently pulled the trembling child forward, tugging until Alan relented and curled forward against his older brother. He released the kid's wrists and slipped strong arms around the much smaller frame and held on as Alan shook and shivered against him. "What am I going to do with you, huh?"

He rested his chin atop the silken blond hair and sighed wearily trying to ignore the bustling city sidewalk around them as some people stopped to stare while others just rushed by, and praying that, for once, the press didn't zero in. He didn't try to move his brother, just letting Alan take whatever comfort it was that he needed right now, until he saw a concerned looking beat cop making his way towards them. He stiffened and slowly stood, pulling Alan up with him. It was time for them to go.

------

"Okay, kiddo," Scott asked casually as they sat sipping chocolate milk shakes almost an hour later. "You wanna tell me what all that was about?" He knew Alan needed to talk; as long as the child kept it inside it was going to eat him up. Post traumatic stress sucked.

Alan stopped sucking on his straw and chewed the tip a bit. He looked decidedly washed out, his breakdown seemingly cathartic if the easier look in his tired blue eyes was anything to go by, but Scott knew better than to assume everything was okay. Crying helped but it never fixed anything.

Finally the little boy just shrugged and started sucking on the shake again.

Why Scott thought this was going to be easy was beyond him. This was a Tracy he was talking about.

"Don't know, huh? Man, that must suck," Scott took another swallow of the thick liquid and changed tactics. He hated to do this to his brother but sometimes tough love was the only way. "Never knowing when you're going to just freak out on everyone… always having to be on the watch for the next crying jag…" As he expected, Alan's face clouded. He continued, "talk about embarrassing. I mean if it was me-"

"The shirt," Alan finally took the bait, "I just didn't want the shirt."

"Really?" Scott feigned surprise. "I'd have never guessed." He tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum but this was his _brother_ he was talking to and some things just could not be helped. When Alan scowled, Scott lightly kicked the kid under the table, pushed his shake aside and gave his brother his full attention. "You want to tell me what the flashback was about?"

"Flashback?" Alan looked confused, his own treat forgotten as he pursed his lips in confusion. "What flashback?"

"Alan, it's pretty common for people who've been through traumatic events to suffer flashbacks afterwards. They're memories of the event, in your case the plane crash, and are usually triggered by something. My guess, in this case, by that shirt." The nine-year-old seemed to be considering what Scott was saying so the pilot continued, "If I'm remembering right, that was the t-shirt you were wearing the day of the accident." He waited for Alan to give him a slow nod in confirmation. "So you want to tell me what happened to it?" He took a stab, then waited patiently for Alan to talk.

"It's stupid," finally came a low mumble.

"I highly doubt that," Scott admitted seriously.

"I failed them," Alan spoke miserably, his eyes glued to the table top of the small diner they were sitting in, his fingers dancing nervously across the granite. "Virgil asked me to be brave 'cause I was the only one who could help… but I wasn't brave, Scotty, I couldn't even keep that nurse from taking my shirt." His words were so low that Scott had to strain to hear them. Alan spoke clearly though, even if his voice trembled. "I was just so scared – and there wasn't anything I could do to help _anyone_. And I-" He stopped.

"And you, what?" Scott nudged softly. He hooked a finger under Alan's chin and gently tipped his brother's face up until he could see the haunted blue eyes that begged him to somehow fix all this… and Scott took the challenge.

"I just wanted you to hurry up and save us."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Alan," Scott held his brother's gaze even as the pain in those eyes seared right through his soul. "You're just a little boy… and the bravest kid I've ever known."

Surprise sparkled closely chased by confusion. "Huh?"

Scott had to laugh at the look. Only Alan could carry it off so well. "Huh, is right. You, dude, my littlest bro. You were brave. Being brave doesn't mean that you're not scared. Hell, I was terrified when I heard you guys had gone down. Being brave means trying to help even when you are afraid. If fear wasn't part of it, than anyone could be a hero."

"A hero?" Alan seemed stunned.

"Damn straight," Scott nodded his head firmly. "That's you, kiddo, a hero… You're only nine years old yet you tried to take care of your father and your two older brothers when you were hurt and scared yourself. Whether or not you actually could anything doesn't matter… What _does_ matter is that you tried and I know you did… I just really wish I could have been there with you though, Sprout. You know I would have done anything to have been there."

"No," the youngest Tracy shook his head. "You wouldn't have wanted to be. It was really scary, Scott, really. It just felt like everything was falling… but not in a fun way. And knowing there was nobody waiting at the bottom to catch you?" Alan shivered. "Really scary."

"Ah, kid," Scott shifted his chair closer and slung an arm around his little brother, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. But it still makes you a hero in my eyes, and in the eyes of everyone who loves you."

Alan seemed to consider that for a few minutes and then he glanced at the plastic bag sitting on the side of their table. They'd gone back to the store long enough for Scott to grab a couple of items that had caught his eye before finding a place for shakes. "You know…" he started slowly, "If you really wanted to… well, maybe, we could go back and maybe, possibly, buy that shirt?"

Scott smiled widely. "I think we maybe, just possibly could."

------

Twenty minutes later they left the store again for the third time in just over an hour with a second bag. As they crossed the street – much more carefully this time – and got into the rental car, slamming the doors shut and reaching for the seat belts, Alan glanced across at his brother and waited for Scott to notice. He didn't have to wait very long.

"Alan?"

"Hey… you know those flash back thingies you were talking about?" He bit his lip nervously.

Scott slowly nodded.

"Well… I think I've had more…"

The older Tracy leaned back in the seat and gave Alan his undivided attention. "Do you want to talk about them?" his tone was pure big brother and Alan responded with a tentative little nod.

"Yeah," he said, "I think I do…"

TBC


	22. Looking up

_Thanks for your wonderful comments. Sorry for the delay but it has been a very hectic fall. I hope you like this. It is pretty much fluff on a stick, but after what I put him threw, I figured I needed to fluff Alan up a bit, lol!_

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 22**

Alan felt a lot better, lighter somehow; as if talking to Scott had taken some of the oppressing weight off his shoulders. Since his oldest sibling had left home, Alan had forgotten just what a good listener Scott was and found himself wondering why he hadn't told all this to his brother before.

And then he remembered – he'd been hurt and angry, but not anymore.

Scott kept telling Alan how proud he was of Alan and how the only person the little boy had let down was himself, because apparently the kid had some pretty high expectations for a nine-year-old. _Probably had something to do with being a Tracy_, Scott had gently teased. And that reassurance was like balm for his soul as something broken inside the youngster started to mend…

The young pilot had driven them outside the city, pulling off at a lookout high above the desert floor. Then he'd just sat there mostly in silence, letting Alan talk; only interrupting to offer words of encouragement whenever the young boy started to falter. Especially when Alan started to tell him about Gordon being sick on the plane and the insects –

That had required more than words as Alan had started to visibly shake. His words stuttered and he just felt sick. But Scott had wrapped a warm arm around the little boy and pulled him closer, wordlessly reminding the child that he was safe, that the ordeal over.

Until, finally now, when Alan was completely exhausted and talked out, the two brothers sat in comfortable silence. The younger was pressed against the older's side, his cheek warm against Scott's hard chest. They watched the lights on the darkening horizon as a heavy jet dropped on its final approach to the airport stretched out below them. Alan shivered, mourning the loss of excitement that watching used to instill in him, as his heart pounded heavily in his chest.

Until the crash, the little blond had been crazy about flying. He had been counting down until he was old enough to get his own pilot's license and cherished every chance he got behind the yoke as his father or Scott sometimes let him pilot Tracy One or Two during a flight.

But not now.

Now Alan chewed his bottom lip and wished he wasn't so afraid.

"Miss it, huh?" Scott's voice rumbled against the blond's cheek.

"Yeah," Alan admitted, sadly. "Kinda."

"Oh, c'mon kid, who are you trying to fool? You loved flying _almost_ as much as I do." He emphasized 'almost' with a little nudge.

Alan didn't say anything, just continued staring wide-eyed and feeling oddly weepy as the plane touched down safely on a brightly lit runway.

"Why'd we have to crash?" he finally asked, lifting his head up so he could see his brother's face.

Scott sighed and looked down at him. "It was just an accident, Al. A bit of bad luck. That's all."

"And birds," the little boy added miserably. He'd been there with Scott and John when the accident investigators had confirmed their findings with Jeff.

"Yeah, and birds," the older Tracy sighed out as he let his head fall back against the headrest of the seat. His fingers rubbed gently against Alan's arm, chasing away a chill that had settled there.

"We should go back now." Alan shifted away from his brother and reached for his seatbelt to buckle back up. "Dad and Virgil'll be worried."

"We don't have to leave yet." Scott didn't make any moves to turn the car back on. "I called Dad from the diner while you were in the bathroom – told him we'd be back late… he said they're doing fine and for us to just enjoy ourselves."

"Scotty…" Alan heard the whine in his voice but he didn't want to stay here anymore.

"Alan," Scott turned towards him now, "you know you're going to have to fly again, don't you?"

His brother's directness stunned Alan and he just stared for a long second letting the question sink it. Well, yes of course he knew he'd have to fly to get home but… but, as stupid as it sounded, it hadn't occurred to him so bluntly before; his ill-fated attempt with John, aside. "Well…" he stalled.

"You can't let this beat you, kiddo." Scott's dark blue eyes held his lighter ones. "I know you're scared, and I'm not going to say that's silly because it isn't. What you, Dad and the guys went through was horrible but Al, you survived. All of you. And to just let this get the best of you isn't like you. I know you're tougher than that…" he gently punched his little brother in the shoulder. "You've got four older brothers to prove it. Growing up with the lot of us can't have always been easy. Regardless of how awesome we are -"

Alan just listened.

"- and you love flying too much to let this keep you down… In fact, I won't let you."

The strength of his brother's conviction caught the little boy off guard. What was Scott planning on doing? Forcing him onto a plane? Alan blanched.

As if he could read his mind, the older Tracy gave him a small smile. "But don't worry, I'm not going to kidnap you or something and toss you onto a plane, I just want you to think about this. Think about what you're most afraid of and I'm pretty sure that when you do, you're going to realize that you've already faced it, and it isn't that bad. Alan, you've already crashed – there is nothing any worse."

"But-" Alan struggled to get his biggest fear out, "but what if someone dies the next time? What if I die?"

"Alan," Scott's eyes softened and his voice lowered. Regret filled his face. "I'm sorry, buddy, but the world is a dangerous place… Anything can happen to any one of us at any time but we can't let that keep us from doing what we love. If we did, then we'd never go anywhere." He stopped and then gave Alan an odd look. "Hey, did you know that when you were a baby, you and Grandma were in a bad car accident?"

The little boy's eyes widened. No, he didn't know about that.

"Yeah, you weren't very old… Two, I think, and you guys got hit by a drunk driver. Man, talk about terrifying. I remember when Dad got the call… We were visiting the farm and Grandma had taken you with her on an errand. Me and Gordon were grounded, and John and Virgil were helping Dad-"

"What?" Alan interrupted, totally transfixed by the story. "_You_ and Gordy? What'd you guys do?"

"That's not important-"

"It is to me." The idea that Scott would have done _anything_ that needed discipline was beyond Alan's scope of imagination. Scott was, so, well, _Scott_. He never did anything wrong.

"Alan, can we get back to the story?"

"I want to know!" Alan figured it must be a really good story since Scott was being so evasive.

"Geez, if I promise to tell you afterwards, will you let me finish?"

Alan grinned and Scott took that as permission to continue. "Anyways, back to the story. The car got badly pinned and it took almost two hours before they could even get Grandma out. And they had to get her out first before they could get to you because you were still in your car seat in the back."

"Was Grandma okay?" Alan interrupted again needing to know.

"Well she hurt her head and broke a couple of ribs, but given how bad the crash was, she got away pretty lucky."

"Oh." Alan didn't think she sounded too lucky but he let it go.

"So it was almost another hour before they finally got you. Thankfully, the car seat did a really good job and except for some cuts and bruises and a broken arm, you were okay… pretty pissed off, but okay."

Alan pursed his lips as he tried to remember the accident. He couldn't.

"But my point is that when you guys got out of the hospital Dad and Grandma were really worried about how'd you react to getting put back in your car seat. They were thinking you'd freak out."

"Did I?" He knew he was pushing his brother's patience but the parts of the story Scott wanted to tell and the parts of the story Alan needed to know about where different, so he wanted to make sure he got the important stuff.

"Nope, not even in the slightest," Scott beamed proudly. "In fact once they strapped you in and left the hospital, you were asleep before we got back to the farm."

Alan bit his lip as he considered the story.

"That was pretty brave… and that's why I know you can beat this. I know you're scared, buddy, and I understand that… but I also know the only way to get past that fear is to look it in the face and kick its hairy ass. But you don't have to do it alone, Sprout. That's what family is for."

The boy stayed silent.

Another plane dropped down out of the night sky towards the runway in front of them. Alan followed its descent and tracked the landing. His fingers twitched in his lap as he considered everything his brother said. It scared him to think about the uncertainty of life, that he could get hurt or killed at any time… and then glanced sideway and stared at Scott's profile.

The pilot's eyes almost glittered as they too watched the landing and he knew his brother was thinking about everything the pilots were doing to land the craft.

He thought about flying with Scott. His brother had been a licensed pilot for almost all of Alan's life and, before the older Tracy had left for the Air Force, he used to take Alan up a lot. Sometimes they had somewhere to go, an errand to run, but sometimes they just flew for the love of flying.

And on those days, Alan felt like a bird. Their jet would soar and dip as it played on the turbulent currents under the masterfully skilled control of his older brother. Scott was an awesome pilot and together, they owned the skies.

A burning sensation in his nose had the nine-year-old blinking when his eyes suddenly welled up with tears. Gosh, he missed those days. Just him, Scott and the sky.

He blurted out suddenly, surprising himself at the neediness in his voice. "Can we go flying, Scotty? Just us, _please_?"

A warm hand settled on the back of his neck and squeezed lightly. "Anything you want, Sprout," his brother's voice sounded oddly gravelly, "_anything_."

------

Scott's heart burst with pride. He was blessed to have such remarkable brothers. Sure they annoyed the hell out of him from time to time – well more often times than not if he was being honest – but they were also the best people he knew. It was moments like these, when a terrified brother put so much faith in him to trust him with his fear that Scott was reminded about what a gift his family was.

And then he thought about his impending return to the Air Force and wondered how he'd be able to go.

"What about tomorrow?" he asked his little brother, knowing Alan couldn't mean he wanted to go flying _right now_. "I can call the airport and make arrangements." And he knew exactly the kind of plane he wanted. Small, fast and maneuverable. In fact as Alan nodded his consent, Scott started to muse on something bigger…

Much. Much bigger.

But first he had two things to do:

Talk to his father.

Then call Brains.

Scott was determined to make Alan's flight memorable. For both of them.

And just over an hour later, after a short visit to the hospital to say a quick good-night to his father and Virgil, and after he was sure an exhausted Alan was asleep in their hotel room, Scott called his father and explained his idea…

Jeff Tracy listened, asked a couple of questions, and then gave his consent.

His heart pounding with excitement, Scott made his next call; speaking before the brilliant man could even get more then _'S-S-Scott'_ out.

"Brains, I need a favour…"

Tbc


	23. Private Moments

Sorry for the delay. Life kept getting in the way, among other things. I'm back now! Enjoy!

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 23**

It was a full bladder that woke Gordon up the next morning. Groaning tiredly he gingerly pushed the blankets off his bruised and hurting body and carefully made the short trek to the bathroom, thankful that his father was wealthy enough to have a private bathroom in each bedroom. The teen doubted he could have made it any further; he was still just so tired. Jet-lag probably, on top of everything else, he mentally grumbled as he finished up, washed his hands and half staggered back to bed.

He'd just gotten settled under the blankets again when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Gordon?" John's blond head poked in around the door a moment later. "You awake?"

"No," he denied as he closed his eyes and willed his brother to leave. He'd been too tired to glance at the clock in passing but he was positive that, whatever time it was, it was way too early for either of them to be up.

Grinning and undaunted, John pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode into the room. "Hey, sleeping beauty, how you feeling?"

"Tired. Go away."

"Now, now. Don't be like that." Still cheerful, John grabbed Gordon's desk chair, pulled it next to the bed and sat down.

"Johnny," Gordon forced his eyes back open and glared at his older brother. "What do you want?"

"Well, just wondering if you're feeling up to going on a little trip?"

Gordon scowled. "Are you kidding me? It's like-" he lifted his head, squinted his eyes and stared at the clock. "6 AM? That's morning time, Johnny. Definitely pre-Gordon wakey-wakey time."

"Wakey-wakey time?" John chuckled, his blue eyes shining with mirth. "What are you, five?"

A pillow got tossed at him. "Shut up."

John easily deflected the weapon then stood. "Okay, fine, Fish. Go back to sleep but when the earth starts shaking and the ground starts quaking, don't come complaining to me." He walked towards the door. "Ciao, kid." Then left the room.

Gordon struggled to sit back up. "What? Wait! John?" but his older brother was already half way down the hall.

* * *

Virgil lay in the hospital bed with his eyes closed. He was frustrated and bored. The doctors were pleased with his progress and promised that he could be discharged in another day or two, and while the young artist was happy about that, he was also incredibly bored.

In the bed across the room, his father stirred and Virgil opened his eyes and looked across at him. The breakfast trays were on the rolling tables between the beds but Virgil wasn't incredibly anxious to find out what was on them today. The food wasn't terribly bad but it wasn't incredibly good either.

Smiling when he saw his son watching him, Jeff adjusted the head of his bed to a semi-upright position and glanced around. "We alone?" he asked.

"So far," Virgil confirmed and wondered how long it would be before his father was on the phone with someone. But to his surprise, and pleasure, Jeff didn't immediately reach for any electronic device instead he frowned and prodded at the enclosed food tray with his finger.

"What do you so suppose this is?"

Virgil carefully shrugged. "As long as it isn't that oatmeal knockoff from yesterday, it'll probably be okay."

Jeff snorted. "Was that oatmeal?"

Virgil chuckled softly, "Supposedly."

"We need Kyrano." His father stated seriously.

"Yes," Virgil agreed wholeheartedly. "We do."

Jeff lifted the lid off the tray and scowled. "I think..." he pursed his lips, grabbed a fork at poked at something gelatinous, "it's an egg." Dropping the utensil, he picked up the mug of steaming coffee and took a sip. "Oh well, at least the coffee's good."

Virgil checked out his own tray. There was no coffee on his but instead of the odd looking egg, he got a bowl of cereal. Lucy Charms. He grinned. "Score!"

"Young Mr. Tracy thought you'd prefer the cereal," a chipper sounding voice announced Blair's arrival mere seconds before the man bustled into the room. "He was rather insistent about it actually."

"Which young Mr. Tracy?" Jeff wondered out loud as he took another sip of his coffee.

"Alan," Virgil guessed and Blair nodded enthusiastically.

"And he suggested that we poach your egg. Said it was your favorite."

Jeff raised an eyebrow skeptically. "That's what's wrong with the egg? It's poached?"

Blair glanced at the tray, at the congealed and very unappetizing lump, and gasped in horror. "Oh dear God! That is just not right." Grabbing the tray, he hurried towards the door. "I am so sorry, Mr. Tracy. So absolutely sorry. I'll have this corrected immediately." He disappeared in a bluster of flapping and apologies.

Virgil looked at his father. His father looked at him and they both burst out laughing.

"I really do need to see about making a donation before we leave," Jeff laughed. "That man. One of a kind."

Grinning, Virgil poured the milk on his cereal. Things had started out rocky with the animated little administrator misplacing Alan, but the guy had certainly tried to make up for it since then. "Remind me to thank the shrimp the next time I see him." He mentioned before taking a huge mouthful of Lucky Charms.

Jeff snorted and shook his head. "Poached eggs? Where did the kid come up with that one? I hate poached eggs."

"This is Alan we're talking about," Virgil reminded his father, "you probably made a sarcastic comment about them one day and he thought you were being serious."

"True," Jeff conceded and drained the rest of his coffee before putting the mug down on the side table. "So Virgil, what are your plans today?"

Rolling his eyes at the obvious, Virgil indicated the room. "Oh, I dunno, more lying around, convalescing, in the chez Hilton here I guess. And yourself?"

"Well after I see about wrangling up some real food for later, I was thinking we should probably figure out what we're going to do for John's birthday… It's only around the corner now."

Virgil chewed at his lip for a moment. His father had never asked him to help with something like this before… "Are you sure you want _my_ input? Wouldn't Scott-"

Jeff waved off his words. "If I wanted Scott's help, I would have asked Scott for help." He looked intently at Virgil. "I'm asking you."

Pleased, Virgil blushed and tried to look unaffected, but, if the way his father's face seemed to soften as Jeff continued to look at him, he doubted he'd pulled it off. "Well, okay then – what kinda stuff were you thinking about?"

The older man leaned back in the bed and shrugged, "Nothing in particular… you got any ideas?"

It was like a blank palette was placed in front of him and Virgil's mind blossomed in a color of ideas. "Well he likes nature and astronomy…"

* * *

"Alan, c'mon kid, we're running late already!" Almost dressed after a hot shower, Scott finished by pulling his t-shirt on over his bare chest and glanced at the closed bathroom door. They weren't really running late but he was anxious to drop by the hospital for a quick visit with their father and Virgil before going to the airport. _And_ they still had to grab something for breakfast first.

"Hold on," a muffled voice huffed and Scott rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure a sister wouldn't take so long to get ready in the morning. And then he thought about his conversation with Virgil the prior day and frowned.

"Hey, Al," he moved towards the bathroom. "Don't put your shirt on yet, I need to check your bruising." It was half true.

Dead silence had him sighing. "Alan?"

"U-uh, you don't have to, Scotty, really. I'm fine."

Scott's frown deepened, pretty certain that had been a tremor he'd heard in his brother's voice. "I'm not asking, Sprout. Unlock the door." He waited another moment then rapped his knuckles against the wood. "Alan?"

A soft click later, Scott was stepping into the room. His eyes softened when he saw his pale brother standing next to the bathtub, Alan's own shirt held tightly in front of his chest as the kid looked everywhere else but at Scott. Alan's apparent discomfort hurt to see.

"Hey, hey," Scott crouched down in front of his brother. "It's just me." He reached out and tugged at Alan's shirt. "C'mon, Sprout, you gotta let me see."

With obvious reluctance, Alan lowered the shirt, his white-knuckled grip tight on the material. "I'm okay," he mumbled still not looking at Scott.

Scott didn't answer him for a moment, instead taking the time to inventory the mottled greens, purples and blues of his brother's healing torso. He winced in sympathy knowing how much it must still hurt. "You know," he started casually, "when I was your age, I had the scrawniest arms ever."

Alan glanced up sharply at him and Scott nodded. "Uh huh. You wouldn't remember because you were just a baby, but, man, they were like sticks… with gloves attached." A small twitching of lips was Scott's reward so he continued. "But that was nothing compared to Johnny's legs. Holy crow. Talking about a walking toothpick. Every time he ran, I was afraid he'd trip and break one of them." This time Alan actually sniggered and Scott reached up to tousle his blond hair. "But look at these stick arm now?" he flexed a bicep, it bulged impressively under the black material. Alan immediately reached out to try and wrap his hand around it. He couldn't.

"They got big," the nine-year old's eyes were wide with worship and Scott smiled gently at him.

"Yeah, they did. Just like yours will too."

Alan started to turn away but Scott caught his chin and forced him to continue to meet his gaze. "Hey, hey, none of that. Look at you, Al, I mean, really look at you." Scott's cobalt blue eyes appraised the slender youth in front of him. "You're already bigger than I was at your age… and I bet – no, I _know_ – that by the time you're finished growing, you're going to give the rest of us a run for our money. You just have to give it some time. You're still only a kid, Sprout."

"But," Alan started, stopped, his lip quivered and he tried again. "But how do you know?"

"How do I know?" Scott sat back on his heels and smiled at his little brother. "Because you're a Tracy, Alan, and that's what Tracy's do. We grow up big. Just look at Dad, me and John, hell, even Virgil. I don't think he's going to be the muscle bound he-men that me and Johnny are but that boy's going to be packing his own six-pack."

"What about Gordon?" Alan asked, a hint of excitement chasing away his previous lack of self-confidence.

"Ah, well, now see Gordy is a bit of a wild-card," Scott admitted. "Fish has got a swimmer's body – you can see it already. He's long and lean so I think he's definitely going to be tall, just not sure about if he'll be bench pressing bulldozers or daisies."

That made Alan laugh. "I'm telling Gordon you said he's going to be a wimp!"

"I did not," Scott reached out and ran ticklish fingers down his brother's ribs, careful of the heavy bruising. Instantly Alan doubled over laughing. "And if there is anything that kid is going to be when he grows up, a wimp it ain't." Standing back up, Scott hooked an arm around his brother's neck and tugged him towards the door. "Now c'mon, put your shirt on and let's get going. I'm hungry!"

Alan let himself be pulled out of the bathroom but when Scott let him go, he didn't immediately get dressed. Instead he looked down at his own body and chewed his lip thoughtfully. "So," he said, after a moment. "You really think I'm going to be big when I grow up?"

Scott smiled affectionately at his littlest brother. "Oh, kiddo, you're already big," he admitted, "your body just needs a while to catch up so don't worry about it, okay? You have nothing to be ashamed of. _Ever_. I promise."

And one look from Alan told Scott that was good enough. Within minutes, they were finally leaving the room and heading towards the elevator and the all you could eat breakfast buffet on the main floor.

* * *

Hours away, on Tracy Island, Gordon just stood next to John and stared.

"What the hell-" he whispered as the whole island seemed to vibrate and shake beneath them before, with a loud roar, a dark silhouette shot overhead and pierced the sky.

"That, my little brother…" John slung an arm loosely around Gordon's shoulders. "…is a Thunderbird…"

His mouth dropping wide open, Gordon just continued to stare.

TBC


	24. Thunderbirds are Go!

**Thank you to everyone for sticking with this story. I know it is hard to believe but it is done. Yippee! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think. A special thank you to Alaina for the awesome beta. Any mistakes are my on. And thank you Sheila for the contest - I won :P**

**Head in the Clouds**

**Chapter 24**

Alan was quiet as the brothers drove towards the small airfield Scott had arranged the flight from. Scott tried to get him to talk but the kid was too nervous and looked like he wanted to throw up.

His heart went out to his scared little brother and he felt bad at having to push the kid like this but the longer they put off getting Alan back in the air, the harder it was going to be. On all of them.

Parking the car, Scott shut it off then got out and walked around to Alan's side. He opened the door but Alan didn't move. "Hey, Sprout, you getting out?"

Alan turned wide frightened eyes on his brother. "I can't, Scotty," he whispered his cheeks burning red in shame. "I just can't."

Scott's face crinkled in sympathy. "Awww, Sprout." Scott crouched down in the space of the open door. "It'll be okay. I promise."

Mutely Alan shook his head and Scott considered him carefully for a few moments.

"I tell you what," he finally decided, "come with me, let me show you something pretty special… and afterwards, if you still don't wanna fly, that's okay – we don't have to do it today. How does that sound?"

Alan bit his lip as Scott mentally coaxed him along, _c'mon, kiddo, you know you want to find out what I'm talking about… you know you do…_

"You want to show me something?" Alan's voice was unusually timid and it tore at his brother.

Scott managed a small smile as he nodded in encouragement. "Uh huh, Al… it's a big surprise. Just for you."

Curiosity piqued, the kid mauled at his lip. "And then we can just leave? If I really want to?"

"If you want to."

Finally the nine-year-old undid his seatbelt. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. "Okay."

They met Brains halfway across an empty hanger. The airport itself was small, used mostly for crop dusters and private planes, and Scott was relieved the scientist had been able to make arrangements so quickly. Thank God money talked or – in the case of Tracy money – screamed.

Brains looked flustered, his arms laden down with a cumbersome looking picnic basket, but he put it down as soon he saw them.

"Brains!" Alan cried out as he hurled himself at the man.

Welcoming the child with a hug, the scientist's relief at seeing one of the injured Tracys was palpable and Scott had to turn away to swallow the lump that rose in the back of his throat. Brains held the child out at arms length so he could properly check him over and Scott chuckled at the put off look on his brother's face.

"I'm fine," the boy tried to protest as he squirmed under the scrutiny. "What are you doing here?"

Fleeting panic crossed the man's face as he caught Scott's eye for a cover story, obviously not wanting to blow Scott's surprise but both men were saved from an explanation when Alan saw the wicker basket on the ground. "What's that?" He was already reaching for the lid.

The smell of something wonderful and meaty tickled Scott's nose. He teased his friend, "You cooked?"

Brains gently batted Alan's hand away, "I h-h-ope n-n-not!" he scoffed. "Kyrano s-s-sent this for your d-d-father and Virgil. S-s-stew, d-d-dumpings and rolls."

Although he had only eaten an hour ago, Scott found himself mirroring his brother as he reached for the basket. Brains was not so gentle with his hand smack. "N-n-not for d-d-discharged Tracys!"

"Kyrano's stew is almost worth an injury," Scott commented under his breath pleased when Alan laughed. He grinned, winked at his brother and then caught his friend's eye. "Everything ready?" he asked glancing significantly in the direction the scientist had been coming from.

Brains nodded his head. "M-most d-d- definitely. I've in-in-put in a se-se-jump s-s-seat."

Alan looked between the two men. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Scott smiled warmly at his brother. "Just making sure your surprise is all ready."

Suspicion beetled the child's brow. "Brains is part of my surprise?"

"Oh most definitely." Looping an arm over his brother's slender frame, Scott steered the boy towards the large open hangar door. "He had to bring it here for you."

"S-S-Scott?" Brains picked up his basket but didn't follow.

"It's okay, Brains," he assured the man as he stopped and turned around, "I got this." He reached into his jeans pocket, plucked out the rental car keys then tossed them the short distance between them.

The scientist caught them in one hand, nodded and hurried from the hangar. He was no longer needed.

Alan frowned at his brother even as Scott started them walking again. "If Brains takes the car… how are we going to get back?"

Stepping outside, Alan turned back around just as Scott answered. "How about we…fly?"

Sitting on the tarmac, her gun metal grey body glinting in the morning sun was the most beautiful aircraft Scott had ever seen. A hypersonic variable geometry rocket plane, Brains had brought the prototype in for a vertical landing and the tip of her nosecone rose proudly towards the sky. Scott sucked in a breath, once again awed by his father's vision and Brains brilliance.

Thunderbird One – this prototype was their family's future and no matter how many times he'd seen her as she'd started to come together, there was just something about this aircraft that sent a shiver through Scott's spine. He had flown her only one time before and was looking forward to it again.

Of course she needed a paint job…

Tearing his gaze away, Scott glanced down at his brother to see if it was having the same kind of affect on Alan.

It was.

Eyes wide, his mouth formed in a small 'o', Alan moved away from Scott and towards the craft as if drawn towards it.

"Scott?" he asked over his shoulder as he reached out with one hand but didn't get close enough to touch, "Wh-what is this?"

"This," Scott couldn't keep the pride out of his voice, "is Thunderbird One."

"_Thunder bird_?" Alan frowned as he seemed to mull the word around for a moment and comprehension dawned and he whirled around so quickly Scott had to step back. "Do you mean… like _Dad's_ Thunderbird? His rescue ship? This? Here?" He pointed vaguely at the huge vessel. "It's really, real? It's this?"

Like his brothers, Alan knew about their father's dream however he'd been kept a lot more sheltered from the actual progress on the project then either Scott, John or even Virgil.

Scott laughed. "Yeah, Alan, just like that."

Alan shook his head, seemingly dumbfounded. "But-but-"

"No buts," the pilot cut him off still chuckling. "So do you want to go for a ride, or what?"

At that, Alan froze. All the blood drained from his face and he stared wide-eyed at Scott. Concerned, Scott crouched down eye-level to the boy. "Al?"

"A ride?" The words were whispered as bright blue eyes searched Scott's face. "You mean… _fly_? In that?"

"Well," Scott considered slowly, afraid of ruining things if he pushed too fast. "We could just sit inside it for a bit… maybe taxi around the runway if you'd like…" It would kill him not to take that wonderful beast up for a flight, but as much as he loved being a pilot, he was a big brother first.

Alan took a deep breath and turned back towards Thunderbird One. "Scotty?"

"Yeah?" Scott held his breath –

"I don't want to drive around in that thing like any old car…"

Scott closed his eyes in defeat.

"I want to fly!"

His eyes shot open and then Alan was grabbing his hand and tugging him forward. "Let's go! Let's go!"

His heart bursting with pride and love, Scott grabbed his little brother and hoisted him up on his shoulders. "In that case," his loud voice boomed around them, "Let's fly!"

Ten minutes and lots of oohing and aahing later, the Tracy brothers were strapped into their respective seats and ready to take-off.

"Alan?" Scott asked, needing to know that his brother was really okay with this. He glanced over his shoulder to where Alan was securely restrained in the newly added jumpseat. "You ready?"

And when Alan smiled, his face stark white with fear but his eyes bright with trust and barely concealed excitement Scott knew he was.

They both were.

* * *

And in a hospital room, several miles away, Jeff Tracy smiled as he watched Brains fussing over Virgil. The smile widened as his sensitive hearing picked up the familiar purr of a powerful engine overhead.

"Thunderbirds," he whispered to himself, "Are Go."

**

* * *

**

Epilogue:

John Tracy leaned over the bow of the six sail schooner and stared down as the magnificent craft cut through water sending up white foam on either side. It was a beautiful day for sailing. Picture perfect. Made even moreso because today was his eighteenth birthday and _this_ was his birthday party. A sailing adventure.

And…

This was the first time since the plane crash that all five Tracys were once again home and together.

To his chagrin, Jeff had been the last to get discharged, Scott and Brains only bringing him home the prior evening, but the determined patriarch refused to let a few doctors 'suggestions' keep him from enjoying this day with his family.

John had been overwhelmed when he saw the gorgeous schooner moored in the small Tracy island harbour. Apparently, Virgil had thought this up. A day out on the water sailing with his family on an authentic 1900's sailing schooner, fully restored, to be followed up by a pig roast and fireworks later that night. Although John wasn't supposed to know about that part… but what could he say? Alan really sucked at keeping these kinds of secrets and Gordon could be bribed.

He smiled as he heard said brothers bickering down below. Something about ice-cubes then a moment later, a startled cry – that sounded very much like Scott – followed by the pounding feet as both Alan and Gordon beat a hasty retreat up the stairs and across the deck had John laughing. Where exactly the kids thought they could go to escape an apparently fuming Scott on a boat was beyond John… but then again, this was Gordon and Alan he was thinking about…

_Hmmm,_ he decided, _I better keep a close eye on the crowsnest. _

"Hey, bro," Virgil's voice had him turning around. "Not planning on jumping are you?"

"Not today," John chuckled as he eyed his younger brother. "I'd hate to miss out on the presents." Mostly recovered, Virgil leaned against the railing next to him and held out a neatly wrapped package. "Speaking of which… what's this?"

Virgil shrugged, "It's not much," he scratched absently at his cheek. "Just something from me."

John took the package and smiled at his sibling. "Ah, man, dude, thanks." He started to undo the bow noting and appreciating the time and effort the young artist had put into the presentation. "You didn't have to get me anything," he added as he paused for a moment and looked his brother in the eyes, "you, Dad, the squirts being here… that's more than enough."

His brother blushed and smiled but didn't say anything.

And then John saw the gift and his heart leapt into his mouth. "Oh, Virgil," he managed, his eyes burning as he stared down at the beautiful charcoal drawing his brother had made for him. "I…" he didn't know what to say.

Framed in an elegantly simple wooden frame was a drawing of a man standing on a beach and pointing up into a night sky. Surrounding the man were five children, all boys, round young faces staring upwards, excitement and eagerness in each captivated face as a shooting star streaked overhead.

"It's lame… I know," Virgil mistook John's lack of reaction. He reached for the picture. "I can get you something else."

"No!" John snatched the picture away. He looked at it, taking in all the easy details of his family captured so perfectly… and for him. He smiled at Virgil, his lip trembling. "I love it, Virg, really. I do… it's…awesome."

Virgil's smile light up his face. "Really?"

"Dude!" John snorted. "Do you even need to ask? This is… perfect. You even got Gordy's cowlick-"

"Hey!" Gordon sputtered, his eagle ears obviously eavesdropping on his older brother's. "I don't have a cowlick! It's a personality curl."

"Personality curl?" Virgil snorted out with a laugh.

"Aren't you supposed to be hiding from Scott?" John reminded him as he rolled his eyes, his hands careful to keep a firm grip on the picture as the schooner rocked slightly as it cut through the waves.

"Nah," Gordon scoffed as he waved his hands in nonchalance. "Al's playing decoy."

"Decoy?" John frowned. "Gordon…"

"It's totally kosher," the red-head protested. "I paid good chocolate and we shook on it."

"I'm not exactly sure I want to know anything else," John shook his head in surrender.

"You're probably right," Gordon agreed then looked down at the picture Virgil had drawn. "Holy crap – that's awesome." He grinned. "I didn't know Scott has boobs."

"_What?_" Virgil sputtered as both he and John tried to see what their brother was talking about.

"Got ya to look!" the teenager gloated and then darted away before the older boys could tie him to the boom.

"You know," John drawled out slowly as he watched Gordon's retreat, "I think he keeps forgetting that this here boat is only about 121 feet long."

"Yeah…" Virgil agreed with a smirk. "And there's only so many good places to hide…"

Then after making sure his gift was safely stowed away, John and Virgil took off after their wayward brother…

A flock of birds might have brought the Tracys' down but a different flock would elevate them past the stars. Until then, they were just five boys, one dad and a whole lot of boat. Heaven help them.

And if not, then at least watch out for them until they could help each other…

Because Jeff Tracy and his boys? Their heads were always in the clouds.

The End.


End file.
